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Mary E. Stearns 



Mary E. Stearns 



Mary E. Stearns 



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By 

Millicent Todd 
One of her Pupils 



Cambridge 

Printed at the Riverside Press 

1909 



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COPYRIGHT, 1909, BY MILLICENT TODD 



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Preface 

^ Mrs. Stearns was not a famous woman. 

Why should her life be written ? 

We, her pupils, wanted to have this book 
made, not because parts of her life were ro- 
mantic, nor because she was universally ad- 
mired and loved, though both are true; not 
even because she achieved success in the eyes 
of the world, though that is also true; but be- 
cause we know that the character she perfected 
is a very tangible success, — because it brought 
sweetness, strength, inspiration to us all. 

The book is a very small tribute of our very 
great love for Mrs. Stearns. 

A study of her shows what can be done 
with adversity. It shows how much a human 
soul can bear, not with resignation, but with 
cheerfulness, when filled with divine power. 
Her life proves how real a thing this power can 
be, for the essence of her genius was religion. 

To attempt an enumeration of Mrs. Stearns's 
religious views would be not only an intrusion, 
but an impossibility. And the breadth of a 
[v] 



Preface 

Christian life whose extent of influence can be 
exceeded only by the grandeur within the soul 
itself, could hardly have been comprehended 
by a girl in her teens. She could only revere 
and deeply love. 

On this plea I have tried to write about Mrs. 
Stearns, from my point of view as her pupil. I 
can mention only those traits which I admired, 
rather than a thousand and one things which 
others older than I, and more suited to under- 
stand them, did appreciate. This book cannot 
fail in being incomplete; for fully to understand 
her character would necessitate a depth of reli- 
gious thought not less than her own. 

If any words I have written serve even to 
suggest the dear living Mrs. Stearns, then it 
will comfort my sadness in realizing how in- 
adequately I have set forth one of the noblest 
women who ever lived. 

M. T. 

Amherst, Massachusetts, 
October 18, 1909. 



[vi] 



Contents 




Introduction 


I 


Childhood and Girlhood . 


3 


Part I. Married Life 


. 41 


I. First Year in Bombay 


43 


II. Matheran .... 


. 88 


III. Indian Incidents 


95 


IV. Various Journeys . 


. 108 


V. The Persian Gulf 


121 


VI. Home Life in India 


. 140 


VII. Paris 


160 


VIII. Mr. Stearns's Failure 


. 184 


IX. Last Year in India . 


203 


X. Orange ..... 


. 212 


XI. Death of Mr. Stearns 


226 


Interlude 


• 235 


Part II. Life Alone . . . . 


243 


I. Beginning of Life in Amherst 


. 245 


II. Opening of the School 


255 


III. Early Years of the School 


. 268 


IV. Amherst Activities 


288 


V. Later Years of the School 


. 301 


VI. Closing of the School, and Deatl 


^ 317 


Appendix 


• 341 



Illustrations 

Mary E. Stearns .... Frontispiece 
Mary E. Stearns, 1859 .... 38 
Mount Pleasant, Malabar Hill, Bombay 44 
William French Stearns . . . . 84 
Mary E. Stearns, Paris, 1866 . . 166 
Mathura Dhondiba Salve .... 346 



Introduction 

Childhood and Girlhood 



Mary E- Stearns 

Childhood and Girlhood 

Among the hills of southern New Hampshire 
there is a little village called Mont Vernon. 
It is on top of a high ridge, bared here and 
there in unexpected places, with a view of forty 
miles in every direction. The one long road is 
bordered with old-fashioned houses, and over- 
shadowed by tall trees. Here and there are 
open spaces, rocky pastures, apple-orchards, 
and frequent little bright-green glades, out- 
lined by stone walls. Deep pine woods crowd 
about the town, with under-thickets of hem- 
lock, laurel and high-bush blueberries, for 
which it is famous. It is famous, too, for its 
apples, which keep longer than those of any 
other place; perhaps equally for its Indian 
brook, the Quohquinnepassakessananagnog! 

Winters in Mont Vernon are long and se- 
vere. There are stories of sleighing parties on 
May-day in the olden time. But in summer 
it is the home of birds with highly burnished 

[3] 



Introduction 

treble voices, and of wild, timid creatures of 
many kinds, for there is, even yet, no railroad 
near. 

One still comes to Mont Vernon in an old, 
yellow stage-coach, which starts from the sta- 
tion at Milford, five miles away. The road 
winds through meadows encircled by dark 
woods where deer are frequently seen, skirts 
a clear mill-pond in a hollow of the hills, and 
then plunges into the woods. Suddenly, a mile 
and a half from the centre of Mont Vernon, 
it confronts the "long hill." When the horses 
stop on a thank-you-ma'am, at a cross-roads 
about half-way up this hill, a sign points toward 
"Purgatory" on the left, and toward "Am- 
herst," two and a half miles distant on the 
right. If one turned to the left and passed an 
old farmhouse, one would see, at the end of a 
double row of giant maples, a cellar all over- 
grown with brambles and lilac bushes. A little 
lane wanders up the hill behind, edged by thick- 
ets and stone walls. Near by a brook comes 
out of the woods, skims across the ledges, and 
tumbles down into a fairy glen. Across the 
road there is a direct fall to more woods. The 
whole world seems spread out beyond ! The 

[4] 



Childhood and Girlhood 

air is full of pine smells, and the sound of high 
bird-songs and water falling. This was the 
childhood home of Mrs. Stearns. 

Mary Emmeline Kittredge was born in 
Mont Vernon on the twenty-fifth of July, 1834. 
Her father was Captain Timothy Kittredge, 
a title received as an officer in the militia during 
the War of 18 12. He had taught school, but 
had become later a farmer, and was an active, 
high-minded, deeply religious man. Every 
Sunday two carriage-loads went to church 
from his house, one a wagon, the other a rock- 
away, referred to in the local History as the 
"toniest vehicle in town." As for himself, he 
never missed but one service at the white meet- 
ing-house on the hill. On that occasion the 
entire congregation adjourned to his house 
after the service, to find out what the matter 
was! 

Mrs. Kittredge was a remarkable woman. 
Tradition has it that several of her ancestors set 
out on foot from their comfortable Massachu- 
setts homes for the New Hampshire wilderness. 
One of them, a woman, after weeks of weary 
tramping, sank down at the foot of a great 
tree. 

[5] 



Introduction 

"Will you go back ? It is not too late ! *' said 
her husband. 

"No, no," she answered. "What a privi- 
lege to start life from a new beginning with 
you!" 

The pioneer spirit was still alive in this he- 
roic woman's descendant. 

Mrs. Kittredge had run away from home 
when a young girl in order to study, putting 
herself under the protection of a cousin, who 
was also a clergyman. She helped with the care 
of his children, teaching them by a sort of 
kindergarten method invented by herself, and 
which she used successfully with her own chil- 
dren later on. One of her Mont Vernon friends, 
now more than ninety years old, recalls that 
Mrs. Kittredge was the first one to use the 
abacus for instructing small children. When 
the Froebel system was coming into vogue, 
Mrs. Kittredge went to Boston for the purpose 
of studying it. Her mother, too, had been a 
teacher. There is still a curious document in 
the family, which certifies that she was quali- 
fied to teach and could calculate an eclipse. 

Mrs. Kittredge was interested in all world 
movements, and showed a wisdom and breadth 
[6] 



Childhood and Girlhood 

of outlook remarkable in a person who had 
spent her life in a far-away New England vil- 
lage. Her son-in-law used to say — many, 
many years later — that of all the letters which 
came to him in India, hers were of the most 
universal interest. At twenty-one she had 
married Captain Kittredge, fifteen years her 
senior. 

The ideals of her parents became those of 
little " Emmie.'' They were hers without effort. 
They came as naturally as the love of country 
lanes and meadows. From them she learned 
that no incident is without its meaning; that 
deprivations and calamities are really oppor- 
tunities for growth of character; that suffering 
is educational, and that every experience is 
providentially sent. Face to face with great 
sorrow, self-discipline was not a new idea to 
her. When, at various crises, she amazed even 
those who knew her best by her fortitude and 
serenity, they would not have been surprised, 
could they have known for how long a time 
her preparation had been going on! If we 
would understand the power which carried 
her through her later life alone, calm and con- 
tented, that part of her life during which most 

[ 7] 



Introduction 

of us knew her, then we must look at the long 
" foreground," beginning with her upward-gaz- 
ing childhood. From her earliest years gradual, 
steady, progressive growth of character was 
her purpose, — growth which produces aston- 
ishing power late in life, unlike the dazzling 
genius which manifests itself in very early 
years. 

Many household duties must be performed, 
and four younger brothers and sisters taken 
care of. The schools in Mont Vernon were an 
u ncertain quantity. Being much older than the 
others, Emmie helped with their instruction. 
To quote her words: "My own mother's way 
. . . was to have us learn to read at five. 
When once we had commenced, she never 
allowed us to relax, except for a vacation. 
When there was no school in the place, she 
would direct our studies herself, sometimes 
asking the children of the neighbourhood to 
join us in a spelling class . . . that we might 
not lose our interest." 

And so she had, from the first, the privilege, 

to her a joyous one, of being useful. Her gaze 

was always directed out and not in, and her 

personality her greatest capital through life, 

[8] 



Childhood and Girlhood 

was already forming. She realized that she 
alone was responsible for her conduct, and 
never felt it necessary to assume the weak- 
nesses characteristic of any age — • whether of 
youth or middle life. Even as a girl she was 
not thoughtless or frivolous. Besides, was not 
all in the earth and sky — green fields and bird- 
songs, pure country air and the individuality 
of the seasons — her friend, to last as a real 
influence through life .? To have gained a love 
of high ideals within and a love of nature 
without, — what could be a more fortunate 
childhood, or a more competent equipment 
for life ? 

Mrs. Kittredge saw in her serious, care- 
taking daughter that curious quality which 
elicits deference from complete strangers. 
She realized that Emmie ought to have the 
advantage of a more extensive education than 
her little hill-town could afford. Her sister, 
Mrs. Dimick, for whom Emmie was named, 
lived in Cambridgeport, Massachusetts. She, 
too, was impressed with the dark-eyed girl, 
who had the knack of making people happy 
wherever she went. Upon her asking Emmie 
to come and stay with her, and go to school, 

[9] 



Introduction 

the young girl left Mont Vernon for Cam- 
bridge, returning to the hills in vacation time 
— glorious summer months in the fields, with 
birds and flowers and her little brothers and 
sisters, who eagerly waited the return of their 
sweet-voiced sister. 

With that characteristic whole-heartedness 
which made her throw herself into the life of 
the place where she happened to be as if that 
were the only life of interest to her, she found 
Cambridge school-days all-absorbing. She de- 
lighted in her studies, and as long as she lived 
liked to recall certain lectures that Professor 
Agassiz gave to the High School pupils on 
natural history — and one in particular, called 
"The Character and Personality of the Creator, 
as revealed in the Organic World." Quickly 
adapting herself to the life of the large town, 
she perceived instinctively which of her own 
gifts could be of use in the new community. 
It was not long before she was singing in the 
choir of the Prospect Street Church, where her 
aunt took her every Sunday, and whose pastor 
was the Reverend William A. Stearns, D. D. 
His eldest son, William, of about Emmie's age, 
was one of her schoolmates. 

[10] 



Childhood and Girlhood 

During their school-days they were the best 
of friends. In his own words: "We walk to 
singing school together and home from evening 
meeting, and when Em stops to rehearse at 
noon and has to walk home, somehow or other 
I always happen ... to be in the front yard, 
and wonderful to relate, again happen to look 
up just as Miss Kittredge gets opposite the gate, 
and am very much astonished indeed to see 
who it is ! And then, somehow or other, in a 
most unaccountable manner, [I am] just pass- 
ing the church Saturday night when the choir 
get through singing, and as Em is going my 
way, volunteer to accompany her!" 

By nature they were strangely opposite. 
There was a quiet dignity and reserve about 
her. His playfulness — " ridiculous capers,'' he 
called it — and sunny disposition made him a 
universal favourite. He was full of the joy of 
life, confident of the uprightness of men in 
general, and of his own bright future. He had 
a strong spirit of adventure. When he was 
only sixteen he had begged his father to let him 
seek his fortune in India. 

They contrasted in appearance as well. Em- 
mie, although a noticeably fine-looking girl, — 

[ II] 



Introduction 

"elegant" was WilFs adjective for her, — 
would not have been called handsome. He 
was extremely so, with a finely cut nose and 
perfect teeth. She was dark and rather pale. 
He had reddish hair and brilliant colour. He 
was six feet tall, straight as an arrow, and 
radiant with health. It is remarkable to see 
together so perfect a face and so superb a 
physique. He was attracted by her depth of 
nature. She was fascinated by a sort of roman- 
tic interest in the handsome boy, so gloriously 
dissatisfied with a peaceful, comfortable life 
in Cambridge. 

In one thing, however, they agreed from the 
first, — their religious feeling. They did not 
reserve religion as a solace for some remote 
contingency, — a sort of last resort, when 
their own resources had failed. It was, on 
the contrary, a practical necessity of every-day 
living. They believed that God was interested 
in their individual welfare, — in a " detailed 
Providence." This conviction was the source 
of their motives, gave them enthusiasm and 
courage, and, in the last analysis, was the in- 
spiration of every act. They continually spoke 
of it to each other. For those who feel that a 
[ 12] 



Childhood and Girlhood 

person's religion is for himself alone, that no 
one else has a right to know the deepest feel- 
ings of his heart, the point of view of Will 
Stearns and Emmie Kittredge may be hard 
to understand. Before she was twenty she 
had said: "Religion does not do much good 
if we keep it to ourselves. By our silence we 
may hinder others from making a right de- 
cision.'' It was a matter of conviction to them 
both that if God was in their lives, "in their 
thoughts, feelings, purposes and achievements, 
He would necessarily be in their words." The 
fact that religion was more discussed then than 
now, that what one believed was a matter of 
general inquiry, cannot wholly explain their 
attitude. 

Emmie graduated from the Cambridge High 
School in 1853 at the age of eighteen, and 
returned to her parents in Mont Vernon. Her 
time was to be occupied with caring for the 
children, and a few music pupils. What a pic- 
ture she draws of herself as she " bounded down 
the hill with light heart and elastic step," when 
a letter came from Will! She had hardly 
reached home when he began to urge her to 
come and study French in Cambridge. She 

[ 13] 



Introduction 

did n't know of how much assistance it would 
be to her in her after Hfe ! Besides, his father 
was on the school board and could get her a 
position to teach in the High School, if she 
wished. It would be far preferable to taking 
music scholars in Mont Vernon. Did n't she 
think so ^ 

Perhaps she did, for she wrote him: "I ac- 
knowledge that I dare not trust myself to sit 
and think for a long time of Cambridge. Am 
I not foolish .? But tears will sometimes come, 
in spite of every effort to restrain them. . . . 
There is something in the very name of Cam- 
bridge that excites emotions I cannot describe, 
there are so many things I love there." 

He, meanwhile, remained in Boston. He 
had entered the employ of Messrs. Weld and 
Minot. They owned many ships that brought 
queer things from far-off lands. "Come," he 
would urge his friends, " come ! I am ex- 
pecting a ship full of curiosities from Cal- 
cutta." The things they brought, and the life 
which the captains described to him, continued 
to draw him more than ever toward the distant 
Orient. 

"He was accustomed during this time to 

[ 14] 



Childhood and Girlhood 

walk in and out of Boston, a distance of two 
and one half miles each way, keeping in his 
pocket the omnibus tickets for emergencies . . . 
and coming home at night still fresh and 
strong and not infrequently whistling and 
singing as he came." He amused himself 
" committing pieces of poetry to memory and 
repeating them on these . . . often solitary 
walks." 

Before long it was decided that Emmie 
should return to her beloved Cambridge, to 
teach in the same school where she had so re- 
cently been a pupil. This experience, as well 
as others, was not without use to her in later 
life. 

In the fall of 1854 she began her work as 
"general assistant" in the English course of 
the Cambridge High School, at a salary of 
two hundred and fifty dollars a year! 

The School Committee report says: "Miss 
Kittredge is a graduate of the school, and while 
connected with it occupied a high rank as a 
scholar. She manifests much skill and tact in 
conducting her recitations, and will attain emi- 
nence in her profession." For the first half- 
year she taught algebra, geometry, and some ad- 

[15] 



Introduction 

vanced French, — that of the seniors in the 
EngHsh course; and the second half-year, 
geography, history, and Scott's "Marmion" 
or "Lady of the Lake." 

Mr. WilHam F. Bradbury, who was, when 
Miss Kittredge taught there, the newly ap- 
pointed sub-master, recalls her as "a fine 
looking, cultivated lady, whom one would no- 
tice anywhere." As a teacher she was very pop- 
ular, he remembers. Every morning in school 
there was singing, without instruments, by the 
scholars. Miss Kittredge's high, lovely voice 
led all the rest. 

"Yes," Mr. Bradbury added, "she was 
genial, bright, amiable, everything that one 
could wish." He also said that he drove 
thirteen miles to Mont Vernon and back over 
the New Hampshire hills one day, merely to 
call upon her, "so you can see how nice she 
was!" 

Some verses have been found, signed by 
William Winter, and addressed to Emmeline 
Kittredge. They were written on the sixth of 
February, 1855, when their author was a stu- 
dent at the Harvard Law School. 

[ 16] 



Childhood and Girlhood 

TO EMMA 

If unto thee a nobler, purer soul 
Could light new graces on thy beaming brow, 
'T would not avail, when we have said the whole, 
To make us love thee more than we do now. 

God bless thee, Emma! I have known but few 
Who, for their gentle worth and purity. 
Might claim a fond affection as their due. 
But thou art one; and I award it thee! 

Teaching duties did not entirely fill her life. 
There is a tradition of a "dashing southerner," 
who drove about with very fast horses. He 
was a Harvard student, the pet of Cambridge 
society, and extremely handsome. Much to the 
envy of all the girls, it was Emmie Kittredge 
whom he used to invite to drive, and his habit 
of offering his carriage ended by his offering 
himself! 

Another young person was so persistent that 
she was greatly troubled. He pictured to her 
what her life would be if she married him : 
her freedom from care, the beautiful house she 
should live in, the servants and carriages she 
should have. One day — toward the last — 
he told her she might have his whole fortune 

[17] 



Introduction 

to devote to missions ! Canny man ! We may 
imagine the momentary temptation, for even 
in those early days her interest in missions 
v^as deeply estabhshed. She went to her pastor 
to ask him what to do. Dr. Stearns said : 
"Emmie, do you love him .?" — "N-n-no." — 
"Then I have no more to say." And she went 
away, light-hearted. 

In spite of the fact that neither of them ap- 
proved of early engagements, and in spite of 
the fact that they were both just twenty, it was 
in this eventful winter that Will Stearns and 
Emmie Kittredge became engaged. His Hfe, 
through his letters, was as much hers in his ab- 
sence as in his presence. It is hard, from this 
time, to separate their interests. 

During this same winter, 1854-55, the 
Stearns family moved from Cambridge to 
Amherst, as Dr. Stearns had been elected presi- 
dent of the college. The spring brought them 
all great sadness in the serious illness of Mrs. 
Stearns. Longing to help his mother, Will 
wrote her : " O mother, don't feel that God has 
forgotten you. What! He who has formed the 
smallest atom of sand and the dust, living 
objects so small that the microscope only can 
[i8] 



Childhood and Girlhood 

reveal their vitality, He forget one of those 
whom He has called the noblest of all His 
works ? No, never. . . . Every one sends love 
to you, including your daughter Emmie (I 
hope sometime)." 

At midsummer Mrs. Stearns died. Her loss 
was an inconceivable blow to Will. He longed 
more than ever to get away from home and try 
his fortune. It was not, however, until Janu- 
ary, 1857, when he was twenty-two years old, 
that he decided to go at last to India. As he 
expected to be gone an indefinite number of 
years, he could not go alone. Emmie must 
come too. With her usual unerring judgment 
she refused. She knew she would cramp him. 
She felt that they were so young they could 
easily wait — ten years if need be. Finally he 
admitted that it would be better for him to be 
fully established before marrying. His business 
arrangements were completed, various Boston 
merchants assuring him that they would give 
him sufficient consignments for beginning busi- 
ness when he should reach India, and the day 
was set for his leave-taking. 

Mr. Stearns shipped as super-cargo for Cal- 
cutta in the sailing ship Alma, leaving New 

[19] 



Introduction 

York on the fifteenth of April, 1857. He spent 
his days studying Spanish and Hindustani, read- 
ing, playing checkers, and "sighing." Of the 
things he had to eat one may form an opinion 
after this characteristic remark : " I put worm- 
wood into the water to make it palatable." 
Still, there were the tropical sunsets and a 
new night-time sky. "The Southern Cross 
looks down smilingly upon you," he wrote. 
"Orion has nearly left us, and the Great Bear 
will soon follow. They still look upon us, peer- 
ing at us with their great brilliant eyes; seem- 
ingly they offer to take back to the loved ones 
at home one last message, — soon they will be 
gone. They will follow the North Star, which 
went out some days ago, and the last connect- 
ing link between us and home will be broken." 
In July the Alma reached Buenos Ayres. 
He sent a letter home from there, on the twenty- 
fifth of July, 1857. 

"Mr. L. and I walked to San Fernando, a 
distance of twenty-one miles, then walked all 
over the town, and, after seeing the sunset, 
started and walked back to Buenos Ayres, 
which we reached at eleven p. m., making the 

[20] 



Childhood and Girlhood 

whole distance, including two hours' stopping, 
in just twelve hours ! In other words we walked 
forty-two miles in ten hours ! . . . Remember 
this, the roads are very muddy, . . . and 
quite a number of times I went into the mud 
more than half-way up to my knees. . . . We 
were attacked by these fellows [dogs] more than 
a dozen different times. ... I had a good 
sword-cane which I drew on them at least 
twenty times. . . . But dogs are not the worst 
things to be encountered. There are wandering 
^gouchers ' whose business it is to . . . keep the 
vast herds of horses in the country. They are 
always on horseback and ride like the wind. 
Many of them are the worst kind of robbers. 
We passed a great many of them on the road, 
and at one time we expected to have a little bit 
of sport. It was a dark, wild-looking spot, with 
the smooth, level unchanging pampa spreading 
out on all sides of us, — just the place for their 
wild work. We had just been speaking to- 
gether about them, when we caught the sound 
of horses' steps, and in a moment five horses 
with two gouchers on each horse came rushing 
down upon us. Shouting and yelling, they 
made straight for us. I jumped up on one side 
[21 ] 



Introduction 

of the road and L. on the other; the gouchers 
rushed between us with three of the horses. . . . 
Just as they were close to us I saw one raise his 
arms over my head. I thought for a moment 
that I had got to feel the lassoo — but away 
they went." 

This was not the only narrow escape of the 
voyage, by any means. Off the Cape of Good 
Hope the Alma nearly capsized in a heavy 
squall, and she came up the Bay of Bengal be- 
tween two typhoons ! Will's " lucky star " pre- 
served him safe and sound, however, and on 
the ninth of November, 1857, his twenty-third 
birthday, he landed in Calcutta. He procured 
at once a horse and buggy, a syce, — groom, — 
and a kttmutgar, — boy, — to wait upon him 
at meals and take care of his clothes. He was 
aghast at the "glorious tropical verdure," at 
the elephants and jackals and great "adju- 
tants," at the bedlam of oriental tongues, and 
the crowds — one hundred thousand persons 
came to see one review of troops ! 

Meanwhile, having twice been reappointed 
at the High School, and her salary raised to 
four hundred dollars for the year 1856-57, at 

[22] 



Childhood and Girlhood 

the end of the school year, as the report of 
the School Committee says, "Miss Kittredge 
resigned, with universal regret." She returned 
to Mont Vernon. 

The pain of the separation from Will ab- 
sorbed her. Letters from both are so full of 
this all-important subject that what they did, 
apart, has little importance. The fear of a thou- 
sand possible accidents weighed upon her. 
Having been run away with down the long hill 
of Mont Vernon, she exclaimed, in a letter to 
him, written on the fourth of October, 1857: 
"The uncertainties of life strike me almost 
with dread. I hardly dare love anything lest 
it be snatched from me, yet my heart will love, 
and you know well the object it clings to most 
fondly here on earth. . . . Although little things 
make me unhappy, equally as little things of 
opposite character make me happy. I have 
. . . felt myself so unfitted to bear the trials 
of the world ! But I think its experiences are 
having their effect to make me stronger, and 
I trust that I may yet improve very much in 
this respect. Life is no holiday, but a stern 
reality, and I trust I may be fitted for all its 
duties." 

[23] 



Introduction 

Conscientious in all her occupations at home, 
her life was with Will in India. 

In Calcutta, he heard rumours of the great 
financial panic in America, though his own 
letters had been sent to await his arrival in 
Bombay. Somewhat disquieted, he waited 
only long enough to help load several ships 
for England and America, including the Alma, 
in which he had made the voyage, to sail from, 
Calcutta, the "city of palaces," on the twenty- 
second of February, 1858. From Bombay, a 
few weeks later, he wrote, "I came mighty 
near arriving here on April Fool's Day, but 
just escaped it by twenty-four hours. . . . The 
harbour is large, . . . studded with islands 
and rocks, among which ... is an old Hindu 
ruin. . . . There are plenty of hills that make 
the background. . . . You can see the Western 
Ghauts, a chain of mountains. ... I am liv- 
ing on board ship till the rains set in. . . . 
Up-countrymen crowd the streets, Persians, 
Armenians, Jews, Afghans, Sikhs, men from 
Cashmere and Cabul, Arabs, Hindus and 
Musulmans, all colours, from the light Cash- 
merian to the black Muscatine." Later, in 
describing some women, hired mourners at a 

[24] 



Childhood and Girlhood 

funeral, he said, they wear "silver anklets of 
one pound each, gold and silver bracelets, 
earrings of gold and pearls and precious stones, 
and a great nose-ring, three or four inches in 
diameter. . . . They v^ear a long piece of 
silk wound around them, and up over the 
head." 

But his heart was full of his love for Emmie, 
and of sadness at the separation from her. 
One letter, filled with reminiscence, goes over 
each stage of their happiness. 

. . . "And then the first letter, whew! 
You could not have dreamed of such happi- 
ness, . . . and the letter and the walk through 
the Hoveys' nursery, I suppose on account 
of the beautiful trees and flowers, — though, 
faith, it was the dead of winter; — and then 
long days of happiness without a cloud, till the 
word came that I must go . . . for many a 
long week and month out upon the broad 
ocean and into far-off lands. . . . 

"The future, the future, I try to look into it, 
to the time when we shall be old and gray, 
. . . but who can tell the end .? . . . Be strong 
and remember He says : * If thou faintest in the 

[25] 



Introduction 

day of adversity, thy strength is small.' I have 
adopted this sentence for my help, and often 
I think of it when the big black clouds begin 
to make. . . . Dearest Emmie, farewell. 

"Will." 

As to his business, on which depended their 
separation or their marriage, no clearer descrip- 
tion of what happened could be given than that 
written to his father in April, 1863, by Mr. 
Stearns himself. "Five years ago to-day I ar- 
rived in Bombay. . . . Full of hope, faith, and 
confidence, I set foot on these shores. A hope 
that the future, so pregnant with blessings for 
those who proved themselves deserving, would 
grant me at least a smile, ... a faith that the 
promises which so freely fell from the lips of 
men whom I had been led to believe were true 
men, would at least in part be fulfilled, — a 
confidence, that in time I should be able to 
prove myself equal to any occasion which might 
arise out of my then unexplored business ca- 
reer. Well, I came to Bombay, and rushed on 
shore to open the scores of letters which had 
so long been awaiting my arrival. Letters 
teeming with credits, bills of lading, invoices 
[z6] 



Childhood and Girlhood 

of goods on the way to Bombay and orders for 
the future, and I found — not one ! It was 
cruel, and my heart sank within me. I had a 
fetv rupees left from my Calcutta earnings . . . 
and with these I was to exist, to open my office, 
and carry on its expenses." . . . 

He went to the Mission House to stay — 
till something should turn up — with the Rev. 
Mr. Harding, whose entire family became 
later the warm friends of Mr. and Mrs. Stearns. 

" Perhaps," he wrote, " I should have come 
direct home, if it had not been for the fact that 
every one prophesied I would." 

He spent his time learning to read, write, and 
speak Hindustani, and by the last of June, he 
mentions writing letters in Hindustani. "I 
am studying hard to get hold of this jaw- 
breaking language. . . . The idioms are, I 
believe, without a parallel in any tongue. Here 
is one: *He tore the collar of his patience,' 
for *he became impatient.' Their names too 
are frightful — Lowjee, Pestonjee, Jamsetjee 
Jeejeebhoy. 

"The alphabet is nearly identical with the 
Hebrew and gives one the same insight into 
that, as well as the Arabic, Persian, and San- 

[27] 



Introduction 

skrit, that Latin gives to the modern Euro- 
pean languages. ... As for getting discour- 
aged, why sometimes the road looks long, but 
the idea of giving up has not once entered my 
head. The stairs may fail to enable me to 
reach the top, but the ladder is left, and if that 
breaks, v^hy — I '11 climb up the bare pole. 
To be sure one slips oftener by the latter way 
of travel, but if he sticks to it he will come out 
all right." 

In spite of all discouragements, the firm of 
W. F. Stearns and Company, General Com- 
mission Agents, was established in Bombay, 
on the first of July, 1858, three months after Mr. 
Stearns's arrival there. Their business dealt 
with cotton and East India goods, chiefly with 
London. His plan, he wrote, "is to stick to 
it till I have either not a red copper left, or 
am able to come home and say, ' I 've done it.' 
... I shall be a successful commission mer- 
chant before I attempt anything else. . . . The 
gentleman whose name is associated with 
mine, Byramjee Dadabhoy, is a Parsee of 
great wealth." 

Mr. Stearns had just decided to take into 
the firm a young Mr. Hooper of Boston, when 

[28] 



Childhood and Girlhood 

Mr. Hooper became ill after a month of the 
Bombay climate, and returned to America. 
On the first of September, 1858, Mr. Stearns 
took in Mr. Healey, also of Boston, who had 
arrived a month before, and with whom he 
was associated for several years. 

In October Mr. Stearns, with Mr. Healey, 
took a bungalow in Colaba, a pa^t of Bombay. 
His description of it follows. 

" Paradise Bungalow, Bombay, 

November 7, 1858. 

..." I never knew before what living in In- 
dia was. It is a real little fairy-land. We have 
a large compound full of trees, flowers, butter- 
flies and birds. All the tropical plants that you 
read of, seem growing here: gigantic lilies, 
mammoth oleanders, banana, mango, cedar 
and guava, tamarind and cocoa trees, butter- 
flies whose gaily coloured wings might rival the 
rainbow in beauty, birds whose sweetest songs 
are poured forth as from one great aviary; 
and such mellow, heavenly music — why, I 
have been enchanted ever since coming here! 
. . . Besides this, the house itself is very pretty, 

[29] 



Introduction 

exceedingly comfortable, and delightfully situ- 
ated. The land runs out in something like this 
form from the Fort, or Bombay proper 
[with a sketch of the bay, Malabar Hill on 
one side and Colaba on the opposite, the Es- 
planade between]. Thus you will see that we 
are in a most delightfully cool place, having 
the full sweep of the sea breeze. At high tide 
I can stand on one shore and throw a stone 
across to the other side. Don't think, how- 
ever, that it is no distance, for you must re- 
member, that there are few persons that can 
throw a stone so far as I. [Here follows a sketch 
of the house and geometrically laid-out gar- 
dens, drives and servants' quarters.] The 
rooms are large, high-studded, and well venti- 
lated. It is a one-storied house, as indeed nearly 
all the houses in Bombay are. . . . The ser- 
vants, six or seven of them, black by nature, 
red-turbaned, white kupraed and bare-legged, 
are flitting about like ghosts of darkness. . . . 
One speaks Marathi, one Hindustani, one 
Gujerathi, and one no language at all. ... In 
the early morning the butler stands ready with 
a cup of tea, some bread and butter and plan- 
tains, and you eat and drink. At half-past 

[30] 



Childhood and Girlhood 

eight come curry and rice, fish and rice, liver 
and rice, eggs, cold fowl, cold bread and hot 
coffee. . . . For the big dinner, or hurra khana, 
we have soup, roast, curry and rice, plum- 
pudding, bananas, custard-apples, coffee and 
cheroots. I am sort of head of the house and 
have to order. It's a nuisance. . . . 

" Listen, while I make your mouth water. 
Bombay mangos are celebrated all over the 
world, and in no other place do they grow to 
such perfection as here. They are from the 
size of a small orange to that of a very large 
cocoanut — de-li-cious. Whew ! fancy, peel 
the skin off and you have a mass of pulp be- 
fore you, yellow as the yellowest peach you ever 
saw, juicy as the juiciest pear you ever put your 
teeth into, fragrant as the most delightful 
aroma, and the taste of skilfully mingled pine- 
apples, cocoanuts, peaches, pears, apples, 
oranges, lemons, bananas, nuts, etc. Also 
plantains, bananas, pineapples, guavas, po- 
melos, figs, tamarinds, and custard-apples. . . . 
It's worth coming to India for. 

"You would have laughed . . . could you 
have seen us moving. We commenced to pack 
at nine o'clock, and at eleven the old house 

[31] 



Introduction 

was solitary and alone. . . . You need not 
say we had no furniture to move, for there 
were no less than ten hackeries or bullock- 
carts, and twenty-two coolies, women and men. 
These twenty- two were employed to carry the 
glass and crockery, to prevent breakage. 
Think of it ! Three old bachelors employing 
some dozen coolie women to help them move ! 
. . . What would we say at home to see some 
dozen women marching down the street in 
solemn procession with baskets, furniture, etc., 
etc., on their heads .? 

"Since the first, we had a succession of holi- 
days. On that day the proclamation which 
inaugurated the Queen's government in In- 
dia was read, and amid much seeming hilarity 
Queen Victoria became the acknowledged 
sovereign of India. In the evening all Bombay 
was illuminated, ... a splendid sight. The 
ramparts were covered with cocoanut lamps, 
row after row, and all placed within two or 
three inches of each other. The cathedrals, 
churches, etc., from the crown of the spire to 
the base were one blaze of light. . . . Streets 
were hung with transparencies, flags, lights, 
etc. Sir Jamsetjee Jeejeebhoy's palaces looked 

[32] 



Childhood and Girlhood 

peculiarly beautiful. You can judge of the 
amount of oil used when I assure you that 
Sir Jamsetjee alone had one hundred thousand 
lamps ! Besides this, all the men-of-war in the 
harbour were illuminated from truck to keelson. 
This sight was of surpassing beauty. Flights 
of rockets and roman candles, blazing blue 
lights or flashing fire-works, with thundering 
cannon, together, made a scene that pen can- 
not describe. . . . 

"One reason why such a great show was 
made was on account of the * Dewallee ' festi- 
val, or Hindu new year, which occurs on the 
seventh of November this year (to-day), and 
which is celebrated by illuminations of two or 
three nights before the close. In preparing for 
the Queen's Raj they also, at a little additional 
expense, got ready for their annual riot. Last 
Friday night all the native town was ablaze 
with lights, equalling if not exceeding the 
Queen's celebration. Most of the natives kept 
open house. I visited Ramball's house, and 
there was so much fire that the heat of the 
rooms was almost intolerable. This is the 
night upon which the natives close their account- 
books for the year, and with appropriate 
[ 33 ] 



Introduction 

heathenish ceremonies open their new books. 
After leaving Ramball's we went along to an- 
other friend's house, where we received a dose 
of rose-water, a bunch of flowers, and a daub 
of sandal-wood oil upon the back of the hand. 
So strong is this oil that, though two or three 
days have passed and I have washed my hands 
in soap several times, I can still detect the 
smell. After leaving this place, we called upon 
our friend. Dr. Bhawoo Dajee, the native 
doctor. . . . His house and compound was 
a perfect fairy-land. On the top was a huge 
painting of the Queen, Prince Albert, and 
others, receiving the homage of the native 
princes. This was lighted from behind. . . . 
The house was covered with lights, and the 
garden walks lighted on each side with frame- 
works of lamps. The prettiest sight of all was, 
however, the cocoanut trees, which had each 
a Chinese lantern, globe-shaped, hung in the 
top, looking more like a huge illuminated 
cocoanut than anything else. Another fine 
sight was the view from the house of the thou- 
sands of upturned native faces, gazing upon 
the scene. Their many-coloured turbans made 
a singular background for the lights to flash 

[34] 



Childhood and Girlhood 

upon. Juggernath Sunkersett's house was also 
grandly lighted up. . . . What with the birds 
and flowers and noble trees, we easily scare up 
an imaginary paradise. It needs only one 
thing to complete its beauty ... to my mind 
at least, and what is that, do you ask .? . . . 
Believe me, I have almost contemplated the 
arms off my big easy-chair from only sitting 
and musing upon the time when I shall see 
you flitting about the rooms. . . . The sun, 
who is bidding us farewell, is just awaking 
birds with you.'' 

On the ninth of November, 1858, his twenty- 
fourth birthday, when he had been in India 
one year, he wrote to his sister Eliza: "Let's 
see; what has the year done for me .? First and 
foremost, it has made a man of me. . . . You 
would hardly recognize the sober, sedate Mr. 
Stearns, senior partner of the house of W. F. 
Stearns & Company, as the laughing, jovial 
brother of two years since. . . . The year has 
equalled in experience to me more than three 
or four at home would have done. It has 
taught me self-reliance; it has given me an 
insight into manners and customs; ... it 

[35] 



Introduction 

has given my thinking faculties a scope for 
action. . . . On the whole, your brother Will 
is much more able to tumble up than tumble 
down." 

Fanny, the only daughter of Mr. and Mrs. 
Dimick, died in Cambridge of tuberculosis 
of the lungs on the fifth of September, 1858, 
at the age of eighteen. Her death was an 
event highly significant to so religious a girl as 
Emmie Kittredge. " It was to me," she wrote, 
" a new experience, and it has made everything 
in life seem changed." 

Yet, in spite of her sadness, the winter at 
home in Mont Vernon was a very happy one 
for Emmie. "The days are too short," she 
said. "The snow is ten feet deep. I get up at 
four o'clock and read from one to two hours 
before breakfast." Her large music class had 
been given up on account of the " feelings of 
another music-teacher." She kept only three 
little pupils. Even to-day there are memories 
in Mont Vernon of her voice and her look as 
she sang in the choir, or of her playing the 
organ while a poor half-witted boy pumped; 
of her leading in the famous " sings " ; of her 
superb, dark, almost Spanish look, of her 

[36] 



Childhood and Girlhood 

striking grace, as she walked about the village 
draped in the splendid oriental shawl sent by 
her lover in India. There were seven hundred 
people in Mont Vernon in those days. Now 
there are four hundred. 

But the secret of her happiness was that Will 
was coming home! Though he drew vivid 
pictures of their meeting, wondering whether 
it would be stormy or pleasant, hot or cold, 
where she would be sitting, or whether he 
should rouse her from sleep, she on her part 
would never plan their programme. She wrote 
him on the twelfth of February, 1859 : — 

" I must tell you that when I think of you, 
it is most natural for me to imagine you in 
that big long overcoat you used to wear so 
much. I don't know but that I shall expect 
to see you with it on, even in July. I can see 
you now putting it on as you were about to 
start for home. ... I should like to see you 
go out of the window as you did one night long 
ago." 

And later, from Roxbury, on the twenty- 
second of March, 1859: — 

"I wish your photograph would make its 
appearance before I go home. I long to see 

[37] 



Introduction 

it, and yet dread it lest you may look changed. 
Is n't it funny that I should feel so ? If you 
are changed I shall be very glad that you sent 
it so that I may get accustomed to your looks 
before we meet. Perhaps I shall be so much 
changed that you will not recognize me. What 
would you say to that .^ . . . You caution me 
against anticipating too much. I hope I do 
not. I am not generally troubled in that way. 
. . . Oh, I do love our spring ! I suppose you 
will say that to understand of what nature is 
capable I must come to India. You will talk 
of beautiful flowers, of splendid plumage of 
birds, etc. Well, if you do I shall love our 
spring better than anything else. I wonder if 
you see from your window as much beauty as 
I.?" 

In order to make his homecoming a com- 
plete surprise, he wrote his sister that he 
was planning to go to Arabia. And further- 
more: — 

"I have a grand opportunity to go to the 
coast of Africa — Zanzibar — but cannot spend 
the time. ... I only hope that the chance will 
be given me of seeing all the world before I die. 
I should like to go up into Thibet and Inde- 

[38] 



Mary E. S teams y 1859 



Childhood and Girlhood 

pendent Tartary, into countries where no one 
ever goes. Hang those every-day travellers 
that sleep in hotels and roll about in phae- 
tons ! . . . Perhaps my history is to be writ- 
ten hereafter, and I may be called upon to 
relate to my children's children the narrow 
escapes in Bombay! ... A tiger was killed 
the other night only a few hundred yards from 
our house. It measured about eight feet from 
tip to tip. ... I expect it's somewhat like 
romance in the East. . . . So, on receipt 
of this, don't write me till the last mail in 

July-" 

And when he finally did come, about the first 
of August, it was a surprise not only to the rest 
of the world, as he had wished, but also to 
Emmie. For she was awakened in the mid- 
dle of one memorable night by a well-known 
whistle under her window, and he was waiting 
for her in the garden below. 

The next we know there was a large wedding 
in the Prospect Street Church in Cambridge, 
on the twenty- fourth of August, 1859, when 
William French Stearns and Mary Emmeline 
Kittredge were married by President Stearns. 

[39] 



Introduction 

The radiance of their happiness is recalled 
to-day as unique in the experience of one who 
was there. A month later, on the twenty- 
eighth of September, 1859, they sailed for 
India, where a new life in the "city built of 
rainbows" was to begin. 



Part I 

Married Life 



I 

First Year in Bombay 

The mere mention of certain places surrounds 
one with a world of romance. One feels, all at 
once, the vitality of life in an imaginary sphere 
— as the mention of certain persons lifts one 
into life on a different plane. Such a place was 
Mount Pleasant, Malabar Hill, Wilderness 
Road, Bombay; such a person was the lady 
who lived in it. Is not the very name of Mr. 
Stearns's bungalow suggestive of long tropical 
days and "nights fragrant with blooms and 
jewelled thick with stars " — where, "lulled by 
the cadence of the garden-stream," the " easy, 
uncounted Eastern minutes slide by " .? Here 
began Mrs. Stearns's oriental life, luxurious, 
beautiful as dreams, — above all, so dear to 
her. 

Mr. and Mrs. Stearns had reached Bombay 
on the thirteenth of November, 1859, and had 
stayed, for a few weeks, with their good friends, 
Mr. and Mrs. Harding, at the Mission House. 

[43] 



Married Life 

Then they moved to Mount Pleasant, far above 
the dust of the crowded city, out where the sea- 
breeze creeps in as the heat of the tropical day 
grows strong. Mr. Stearns described it to his 
father. "We have a most beautiful house, or 
'bungalow,' as it is called here, situated on 
Malabar Hill, about four miles from the Fort, 
or place of business. . . . Our house is on the 
side of the hill, overlooking a mass of tropical 
verdure, palms, tamarind and popoi trees; at 
the foot, and within gunshot, the sea breaks 
over the black rocks, shaking and scattering its 
white foam in beautiful contrast to the bold 
and naked shore. It is one of the finest places 
in Bombay." 

The compound of the house was massed with 
startling, red-leaved shrubs, and on each side 
of the wide white doorway, beside the cascades 
of maiden-hair fern, sat two white-turbaned 
tailors, attentively sewing. According to tropi- 
cal fashion, the house was open, through and 
through. The drawing-room, filled with carved 
teak furniture, the circular red divan in the 
centre, the grand piano at one side, was sepa- 
rated from the billiard-room at one end and 
from the dining-room at the other by tall, 

[44] 



Mount Pleasanty Malabar Hill^ Bombay 



First Year in Bombay 

carved screens. These were removed just 
before dinner, to reveal the beautifully deco- 
rated table and the servants in uniform, one 
behind each chair. The head butler v^ore a 
brilliant turban, white coat, red brocade 
trousers, and wide sash. "The rules of caste 
necessitated a large number of servants, and 
the heat of the day demanded an equipment 
in horses and carriages if one ventured out of 
the compound, which elsewhere would border 
on extravagance." One of Mrs. Stearns's own 
letters describes her household. 

" Bombay, January 25, i860. 
"Let me tell you first of all that you cannot 
get along with few servants here as at home. 
. . . Wehave the nice little number of eighteen. 
Will you have their names ? First and chief 
among them all is Butler, whose duty con- 
sists in making all the purchases for the house, 
arranging all the meals for the day, making 
puddings, tarts, and various nice dishes for the 
table, waiting on the table, ordering the other 
servants, etc. This same butler is a Portu*- 
giiese, calls himself a Christian, is a well- 
dressed, good-looking, and very capable per- 

Us] 



Married Life 

son. Next is Bobajee, or the cook, who is 
also Portuguese; two boys, Rama and Cymon, 
who wait on the table and do various things; 
Mussal, who takes care of the lamps, dishes, 
etc., Hamal, who makes the beds, rubs the 
furniture, and keeps clean in general; Sweeper, 
whose duty consists in the care of the bath- 
rooms, and various things below the other 
servants; Panee-wallah or water-bringer; Ra- 
mooshee, who watches the house at night; 
Coolee, who brings the things from the bazaar; 
Coachman and three Gora-wallahs, one for 
each horse; Dhobie or washerman; Durzie or 
tailor; Mallee or gardener; and Small Boy in 
the cook-room, who builds the fire. The name 
of each of these indicates his profession and 
they are known by no other. Take Hamal, for 
instance. He knows nothing except to make 
beds, sweep the floors, and polish the furni- 
ture ; it would be an impossibility for him to do 
anything else. ... I like the servants very 
much thus far. . . . I assure you that our cook- 
ing is delicious. I have never tasted better any- 
where. Should I have a large dinner-party, I 
should only have to tell my butler how many 
people were coming, and I should feel sure that 

[46] 



First Year in Bombay 

everything would be right. . . . All I can do 
is to keep a watch over the butler, seeing that 
he does not make our living too expensive. I 
make him give me a strict account of all he 
buys each day and then pay him." He was, so 
to speak, the grand mogul of the household. 
All discipline and all complaints came through 
him. 

She continued : " It is almost impossible to 
have any care. here, though I take all I can 
possibly get. We have an excellent dhohie. My 
dresses are done up better than I ever had them 
done at home, as also my collars, sleeves, etc. 
... I am sure you would revel in having 
things done as I have had them thus far. . . . 
Mrs. Harding has been spending a week with 
us for her baby's health." 

The servants slept on mats under the veran- 
das, or, if they had families, in tents, which 
they could put up near by. They formed a 
little community, though hardly friendly, since 
the rules of caste kept them from eating with 
each other. The same rules prevented them 
from touching the food of Europeans. 

Of how Mrs. Stearns passed her days, we 
have an account in her own words. "We rise 

[47] 



Married Life 

quite early in the morning before the sun is up, 
bathe, dress as quickly as possible, partake of 
'little breakfast,' — chota hazree, — consisting 
of tea, bread and butter, and plantains, then 
walk two or three miles." It is the unconven- 
tional part of the day. "The road . . . at the 
foot of the hill on the seashore ... is pro- 
tected from the morning sun by the hill. We 
meet many persons walking or riding. On our 
return we dress, have prayers, and breakfast 
at half-past eight or nine o'clock. Will and 
Mr. Healey" — who now lived with them 
— "go immediately to their business in the 
Fort." 

During the morning the butler's accounts 
might be examined; the daily visit made to the 
store-room to give out the necessary articles 
for the day's use; work for the durzie — for a 
man was the family seamstress — arranged 
and inspected. "From eleven till two o'clock 
I am obliged to be ready for callers." Prodi- 
gally coloured butterflies, produced in flower- 
gardens, and known in India as "flying flow- 
ers," sun their wings, timid lizards run about 
over the walls or bask on the lattice, and in the 
thick, cool shade of the masses of mango trees, 

[48] 



1 



First Year in Bombay 

the sun-birds flash. Beyond, the blue sea 
spreads wide to the tropical midday sun. 

" The painted streets alive with hum of noon, 
" The traders cross-legged 'mid their spice and grain, 
" The buyers with their money im the cloth, . . . 
" The shout to clear the road, the huge stone wheels, 
" The strong, slow oxen and their rustling loads, . . . 
" The dyers stretching waist-cloths in the sun 
"Wet from the vats — orange, and rose, and green; 
" The soldiers clanking past," — 

such is an Indian hot high-noon, the formal 
hour for calling. 

If no one should come, a thousand things of 
interest can be seen from the verandas. To 
quote Mr. Stearns: "While I write, two or 
three snake-charmers have come up to the 
door. They promise to show us a fight between 
a cobra and a mongoose. They are queer fel- 
lows, and their performance in jugglery and 
sleight of hand would astonish you. . . . 

"Within a few rods, or yards, rather, of my 
chair, sits a native Christian preacher, named 
Dajiba, ' putting in ' like a good one. For an 
audience he has a portion of our servants only. 
Some will not come, they are so bigoted, a few 
come to please us, and one, or perhaps two, 
because they like to hear him. For all this 

[49] 



Married Life 

instruction I pay him ten rupees per month, 
or sixty dollars per year ! '' 

Sometimes Mrs. Stearns herself went call- 
ing, for it was necessary to return a call within 
one week or lose the acquaintance. 

"At two o'clock I have my tiffin, or lunch, 
then lounge about . . . unexposed to any com- 
pany until four, dress again for callers, or a 
drive.'' It is interesting to know what Mrs. 
Stearns called "lounging about." She said, 
"I am trying to finish Prescott's works and 
Alexander Dumas. . . . We have from New 
York by every mail the New York Times 
and Herald, Boston Advertiser, Transcript and 
Traveller. I read all these with the exception 
of the Herald; from England the Home News 
and Cornhill Magazine; two Bombay daily 
papers and one weekly." 

Everybody takes a drive before dinner 
"along the shore, perhaps, or over the crest of 
the hill by the grim Towers of Silence, where 
the Parsees burn their dead, through the palm- 
groves of Girgaum, through the native town 
to the open Esplanade, where, amid the mob 
of carriages, can be seen the rich native with 
his European coachman, and all the mush- 

[50] 



First Year in Bombay 

room growth of suddenly acquired wealth, 
sprinkling of officialdom, and smartly dressed 
army officers." 

" I often drive into the Fort and bring Will 
home. . . . Three nights in the week we have 
a band of music at the Esplanade between our 
house and the Fort, where we often stop for a 
while on our way home. It is quite a fashion- 
able resort, people driving, riding, and gossip- 
ing, a few perhaps listening to the music." 

This was "that marvellous hour which 
closes the tropical day, when light becomes an 
illusion and . . . Mystery casts off the shade 
and clothes itself in radiance! . . . When . . . 
all colours are rarefied, not dimmed ; all forms 
rendered ethereal, not distorted nor effaced." 
Saturated with the odour of crushed vegetation, 
that wonderful twilight passed like a flash, and 
the night shut down upon them — those nights 
"which have the essence of five nights any- 
where else extracted and enriched with spices " 
— when one sits perfectly still and listens to 
the blue doves' coo — or the sad whistle of 
the little owl or night-jar. Dinner closed the 
day, save for a quiet hour, unless some formal 
function prolonged it. 

[51] 



Married Life 

DiflFerent from all others was mail-day, com- 
ing at first but twice a month. It is described 
by Mr. Stearns. "While writing the mail is 
signalled ! . . . First, the smoke of a steamer 
is spied from the outer light-ship, long before 
the vessel itself is visible. Up goes a flag on 
the light-ship at once, to notify the fellows at 
the light-house on shore that a steamer is com- 
ing. Should the steamer be coming from the 
south, a large white one with a black cross 
goes up on the south side of the flag-staff; if 
from the north, then on the north side. As 
soon as it is ascertained that it is the mail, a 
large red flag with three white crosses in it is 
hoisted, and then, such excitement until the 
news is known, you cannot imagine.'' 

When the letters had been read their replies 
must be returned at once — it took three 
months to write a letter and receive an answer, 
and, to quote again, "during that time the 
world' turns ninety times ! " The interest in 
home news and the love of home friends was 
so intense with both that they sent off "rarely 
less than a dozen [letters] and sometimes over 
twenty by each opportunity, those not short 
ones by any manner of means." 

[52] 



First Year in Bombay 

There was no other communication with 
Europe and America, for the cable was not 
yet laid. 

On Sunday they made their life as nearly 
as possible like that at home. They attended 
regularly the Scotch Free Church. 

Mr. Stearns's business was thriving. He 
was popular with all classes, both European 
and native, influential in business and finan- 
cial circles, respected by his associates and the 
officers of the government. 

With no prescribed duties, with every temp- 
tation to the luxury of idleness in the tropics, 
and every excuse for indolence, Mrs. Stearns 
was constantly busy. She never felt that it 
was allowable to waste a moment of time. 
Besides her household cares she studied sys- 
tematically to increase her command of lan- 
guages, learning Hindustani, which she spoke 
remarkably well, and reading French, with 
which she became so familiar that when she 
went to Paris she needed only the study of 
diction. Tradition has it that she read through 
twenty-two volumes of Prescott during the few 
minutes every day when an ayah was brushing 
her hair ! She practised, too, just so long every 

[53] 



Married Life 

day as if in preparation for the future need. 
There never was at any time with her the atti- 
tude of one who has arrived, with whom the 
future can care for itself. 

"To-morrow," Mrs. Stearns wrote on the 
twenty-ninth of February, i860, "I spend the 
day with Mrs. Faithfull, who is one of the first 
ladies in Bombay. . . . Mr. Faithfull is the 
first lawyer here and has an enormous busi- 
ness. . . . She came out in the same steamer 
with us from England and occupied the same 
cabin with me. She is a splendid woman, very 
highly accomplished ; timid creature that I am, 
I am somewhat afraid of her, yet she is ex- 
cessively kind and exerts herself very much to 
add to my comfort." 

From this chance meeting on the steamer 
there sprang a friendship which was a roman- 
tic devotion indeed. It formed a large part of 
the glamour of Indian life. In appearance 
Mrs. Faithfull was regal, always followed 
wherever she went by an Indian servant in 
livery. With great strength of character, she 
was noted for her accomplishments and bril- 
liant wit. Mrs. Stearns had an exalted opinion 
of her. Too much cannot be said of Mrs. 

[54] 



First Year in Bombay 

Faithfuirs influence. It continued, a constant 
stimulus, long after Mrs. Faithfuirs death. 
Her picture hung close above Mrs. Stearns's 
desk all her life. 

She taught Mrs. Stearns the usages of 
Anglo-Indian society, which was ceremonious 
to the last degree. Rank dominated social 
functions, which were conventional and iron- 
bound. The climate imposed limitations no 
less rigid, which largely restricted the freedom 
to which we are accustomed. Mrs. Stearns's 
more detailed account gives a clearer idea. 

"Bombay, April lo, i860. 
"The four months now passed, or till March, 
are considered the season in Bombay; during 
that time dinner-parties, balls, etc., are numer- 
ous. . . . Have I written you in regard to a 
music soiree given by Mrs. Faithful!, one of my 
best friends .? . . . She is like an older sister 
to me. . . . She is a very talented musician, I 
suppose more so than any other lady in Bom- 
bay, and with the assistance of a few other 
musicians gave a concert of which Zerrahn 
might have been proud. But to go back a 
little. The list of invites quite frightened me ! 

[55] 



Married Life 

Such names as Sir Henry Somerset, Com- 
mander-in-chief of the Bornbay army, Lady 
Somerset, both members of the governor's coun- 
cil, any number of Sirs besides, induced me to 
decide at first that I would not accept the in- 
vitation. The best society here, v^hich includes 
the highest officials, is very formal and ex- 
ceedingly particular on points of etiquette, 
many of which differ from those observed in 
England, and I feared that we had hardly be- 
come familiar enough with them to enjoy such 
a party. . . . Calling to the rescue all the 
courage I possessed and determining to imag- 
ine myself Lady Somebody, I went immedi- 
ately to order a dress for that occasion. As you 
will wish to know what it was, I will describe 
it shortly. The dress was of plain black tulle, 
very fashionable here, made in double skirt, 
each skirt with narrow puffs, trimmed with 
pink ribbon. This was worn over plain silk, 
waist and sleeves with pink ribbons like the 
skirt. One thing let me remark here, — that I 
find it impossible to wear anything over the 
shoulders, like the lace capes which I had 
before leaving home, even to the most quiet 
dinners. It would be thought highly improper, 

[56] 



First Year in Bombay 

so I have yielded to low-necked dresses. Over 
my head I wore a French wreath of pink 
flowers, with pearls over the top, satin sHppers, 
handkerchief and fan to correspond with the 
rest of the dress. Suffice it to say that although 
it was a splendid party, I spent one of the hap- 
piest evenings of my life, and saw nothing to 
be alarmed at. . . . The brilliant uniform 
worn by Sir Henry Somerset as well as inferior 
officers contrasted beautifully with the dresses 
of the ladies and added much to the splendour 
of the room. 

" The custom here is, when you arrive at a 
party, the servants announce that a carriage is 
at the door, the gentleman of the house imme- 
diately goes to the carriage, takes the lady upon 
his arm, and enters the drawing-room with her, 
taking her first to the lady of the house, and 
then seating her. Mr. Faithfull is the only per- 
son who gives parties of this kind, all others 
being dinners or dancing parties. . . . Ladies 
are very tenacious of their rank here. However, 
the only chance for any display of this kind was 
going to and from the refreshment-room. Re- 
freshments were had after the music, much like 
large parties at home, going from this room 

[57] 



Married Life 

to the carriages, without entering again the 
drawing-room. It would have been highly 
improper if any lady had gone to her carriage 
before Lady Somerset, as she was highest in 
rank, and so on. Of course those not in the 
service, as it is called, know what to do. There 
is no putting on of bonnets, shawls, etc., as at 
home. We wear over the shoulders simply an 
evening cloak . . . which is easily thrown on. 
... I like it much, and with all its formality 
the ladies are so very kind to me." 

It was at this time that Mr. Stearns's brother 
Frazar, a generous, affectionate, proud-spirited, 
high-minded boy of nineteen, spent two months 
with them. He was taking a trip around the 
world in the midst of his college course, after a 
siege of typhoid fever. He left, much to their 
regret, in early May. Shortly afterwards Mr. 
Healey returned to Boston, and they were left 
alone. 

The month of May in Bombay is the hottest 
in the year. Nearly every one goes away to the 
Hills for a change. But the heat is different 
from American summers, for there is a sea- 
breeze all day long. 

[ 58] 



First Year in Bombay 

On the eighteenth of May, i860, their first 
child, William Kittredge Stearns, was born. 
"Hurrah! Daddy, you're a grandpa," wrote 
Mr. Stearns; and, a moment later: "Oh, it 
is an awful, yet glorious privilege to feel that 
there is one for whose time and eternity you 
are responsible! . . . He is God's, and no 
doubt will be used for somewise purpose, come 
life or death." And Mrs. Stearns wrote: "I 
fancy I am like most mothers, a little foolish 
perhaps. I do not say that he is the most won- 
derful boy that was ever born, although I con- 
fess I often find myself thinking so. . . . Now 
during the rains there is but little going on, and 
I have nothing to do but amuse myself with 
this little pet." 

The household was somewhat changed, as 
"Cymon, the head-butler, gave up almost en- 
tirely his other duties to remain with baby and 
his ayah. Cymon is now learning English. . . . 
The servants here are remarkable for their de- 
votion to the children of their masters. You 
will hardly believe it, perhaps, but I assure you 
that I never take baby myself that I do not feel 
sure I am depriving Cymon or the ayah of 
quite an amount of pleasure. . . , They call 

[59] 



Married Life 

the baby chota sahib, which means * little 
master/ " 

In speaking to his mistress a servant usually 
addressed her as "your worship," so the 
wording of the following note is not surprising. 
"Most respected Madam: I take the liberty 
and enform your ladyship's honour that I am 
your obedient humble Butler named Celestine 
Alvares, always attended to your orders." 
Then follows a complaint. " Pray forever long 
life and prosperity with all your respectable 
family and Mr. Baby and Relasions." 

The intense heat of May is relieved during 
early June by the monsoon, or southwest wind, 
and about three weeks later the rains begin. 
To quote Mr. Stearns : " It is the famous rainy 
season of the tropics. ... It comes by the 
foot, not by the inch. As a specimen : I went 
out the other night to make a call. It was quite 
pleasant, but soon it commenced to pour, and 
in about two hours' time so much fell, that I 
was obliged to wade half-way home ankle-deep 
. . . one place about an eighth of a mile long 
nearly up to my knees ! . . . We have between 
seventy and eighty inches during the rainy 
season oftwo to three months only. . . . There 

[60] 



First Year in Bombay 

it goes again, coming down in sheets, and this 
morning the ground is aHve with great yellow 
frogs. . . . They hop about for a week or so, 
then disappear, and one sees no more for a 
year. Where they come from or go to, no one 
knows. . . . Perhaps they are the embodied 
spirits of baked Hindu!'' 

Mrs. Stearns wrote : "The change is wonder- 
ful. ... It is like magic. ... It seems as 
though every rock had sprung into life. Many 
of the walls . . . are entirely covered with a 
beautiful green moss.'' During the night the 
thickets are alive with the brilliant little Indian 
fireflies. "The dampness of the air is very 
refreshing. So far it has generally rained in the 
night and during the morning, and been quite 
pleasant towards night. . . . The place for 
driving during the rains is on the beach near 
us. . . . The only unpleasant thing about the 
rains to me is the effect it has upon our clothes. 
They . . . are covered with mould and mil- 
dew in spite of all we can do. . . . 

"We have with us at present [July 5, i860], 
Richard H. Dana, Jr., of Cambridge. He 
came by the last mail from China. Will called 
upon him . . . and he came to us . . . di- 

[61] 



Married Life 

rectly. He intended to go on by this mail, but 
is suffering so much from an injury received on 
board the steamer, that he has not been out of 
the house since he has been with us; in conse- 
quence of this he will remain another fort- 
night." 

An amusing incident happened during this 
visit. One evening, while they were all at din- 
ner, Willie began to cry. "Pray go to him, 
Mrs. Stearns," said Mr. Dana. "I know how 
uneasy you must be." "If you will excuse me, 
Mr. Dana," she replied, " I think I will go for 
just a moment. He almost never cries ! " And 
this was the only time she was ever known to 
leave the table. 

After Mr. Dana was better, Mr. Stearns spent 
a week or more showing him the picturesque 
native life of India. He asked the Hindu 
physician, Dr. Bhawoo Dajee, considered the 
best guide in Bombay, to take Mr. Dana 
about. He was invited to the house of a 
wealthy Parsee to see the ladies of the family 
arrayed in their finest jewels. He went with 
Mr. Stearns to Poona, across the Ghauts, 
which he thought, because of the rain, "one of 
the finest sights he had ever witnessed." 

[62] 



First Year in Bombay 

With the very kind permission of Mr. Dana's 
son, Richard H. Dana, Esq., of Boston, some 
parts of Mr. Dana's journal relating to Bom- 
bay and its vicinity follow. I insert them, not for 
the delightful descriptions, but rather because 
the entertainment he received was character- 
istic of Mr. Stearns's Indian hospitality, and 
because the scenes he so vividly shows were 
of every-day occurrence in Mrs. Stearns's life. 

The date of Mr. Dana's arrival in Bombay 
was Monday, July 2, i860. He writes : — 

" I am in British India! and the servants call me 
Sahib and say 'salaam,' and touch their turbans. 
My room is long and bare, but with good ven- 
tilation, and there is a servant to stay in the 
room all the time, or about the door. This is the 
Indian custom. One of the firm of Dossabhoy 
Merwanjee & Co., a Parsee house, calls on me 
with offers of civilities. . . . He sits an hour 
or so in his cherry-coloured silk trousers, white 
robe, and Parsee hat, and declines an invita- 
tion to dine, alleging that Parsees never dine 
with strangers, as they cannot eat our meats. 

"Tuesday, July 3. At four o'clock Mr. 
Stearns comes for me in his carriage. . . . Ride 

[63] 



Married Life 

in the rain through Bombay. . . . Here are 
tanks [for dhohies] where the water is collected 
in the rainy season, and women carrying 
pitchers on their heads, and oxen drawing 
water from the tanks. What strikes me most is 
the free, graceful, queenly carriage of the wo- 
men. . . . It is a delight to see them move. A 
white robe drawn over the shoulder hangs 
gracefully about them, allowing perfect free- 
dom of motion, and showing the shape and 
movements, while they step off with a proud, 
dainty step, each a duchess, — but no duchess 
that I ever saw walked so well. . . . This 
place has the greatest conglomeration of races, 
sects and castes, of perhaps any place in the 
world, — everything that Africa, Europe and 
Asia and all their intermixtures can produce. 

"Stearns has a pretty bungalow on Malabar 
Hill. . . . There is a view of the sea, which 
opens at the foot of the hill, and we can both 
see and hear the breakers. The house is one 
story, with piazzas all round, and long pro- 
jecting thatched roof, like all bungalows, and 
is airy and shady, with large, high rooms. I 
have three rooms en suite — a sleeping, sitting 
and bathing room — assigned me, and a na- 

[64] 



First Year in Bombay 

tive servant. This is very agreeable and a most 
pleasant change from my hotel. . . . They are 
young, married at home last year, and have 
their first child, only six weeks old, a boy. 
Dr. Meade comes and . . . discovers that I 
have broken a rib. ... A good Providence has 
decreed me an accident, but mercifully made 
it light, and all its circumstances as favour- 
able as possible, a pleasant home and kind 
friends, a good surgeon, and above all the good 
health that gives good spirits and sleep. . . . 

"July 4, i860. ... A barber shaves me 
every morning, draped in a maroon turban and 
white robe, and my servant wears a red tur- 
ban. . . . 

"Monday, July 15. . . . Ride to church 
this afternoon with Mr. and Mrs. Stearns and 
get my [really] first view and notion of Bom- 
bay. It is a picturesque and interesting spec- 
tacle, — that of the East Indian races, in their 
marked costumes, — Hindus, Musulmans and 
Parsees, and here and there an Arab or Persian 
or negro, each cognizable by his dress, — all, 
. . . or nearly all, with turbans, — but differ- 
ing in form and colour. . . . And then the 
marks of caste on the forehead, the cabalistic 

[65] 



Married Life 

dots and streaks of white or red or yellow, for 
which they will give up their lives at any time, 
■ — that caste which will not let a Brahmin beg- 
gar take a cup of water from a king of the 
second caste. . . . 

"It is the middle of the 'rains' . . . and 
everything is green, and rich, and dank and 
mouldy. The mould affects all the houses, 
making them look as dull and dingy as St. 
Paul's. Our woolen clothes, books, shoes, 
gloves — all are mouldy, and servants are em- 
ployed in wiping and drying, day after day. . . . 
The tanks are pretty places. They are of all 
sizes, — some as large as the Brookline Reser- 
voir, others as the Frog Pond, and so down to 
the size of dry docks and small basins. They 
are little lakes or reservoirs, open, edged with 
stone or grass, and in them the water is col- 
lected, during the rains, for all the year. They 
are free to all. . . . Now, I see the force of the 
Scripture figure, — in these dry hot lands. 
And there are the poor, drawing water freely ! 
and by the banks they wash. And how grace- 
ful are their water-bearers, — the women, I 
mean ! . . . I cannot keep my eyes from 
them. . . . No credit to the Greek sculptors 
[66] 



First Year in Bombay 

for their female figures, if they had such before 
them! 

"The church we go to is called the Byculla, 
— for the quarter of the town in which it 
stands, — an English church. It is curious to 
see it fitted with punkahs, six on each side and 
one over the chancel, and an English congre- 
gation inside, and the poor heathen, to whom 
the gospel is sent, standing outside pulling the 
punkahs. As it is dark before the service ends, 
each pew has a light, at the corner, a candle in 
a glass globe, and all are lighted, — but the 
waving punkahs keep us cool. Then, almost 
every one rides to church, and the gora-wallahs 
and drivers hang around outside. I fear the con- 
gregation of heathen servants outside is greater 
than that of Europeans inside. 

"Monday, July i6. . . . The streets in the 
'Fort,' where all the business is done, and 
where most of the natives live, are very narrow, 
with high walls, five or six stories high, and 
crowded with passers, and hot and close. . . . 
Bombay is built on an island, or series of islands, 
connected by causeways. The harbour lies be- 
tween these and the main. On the rear, and 
open to the sea, is Malabar Hill. ... In the 

[67] 



Married Life 

centre is the Fort and Esplanade. The Fort has 
walls and gates and a ditch, and is guarded; 
but within its straitened limits is all the busi- 
ness of Bombay, which is now or soon is to be 
the largest in India. 

"Tuesday, July 17. . . . To the Botanical 
Garden. Saw there a strychnine tree, every 
leaf a deadly poison, several banyan trees, and 
the cinnamon, frankincense, tamarind, nut- 
meg and teak. ... On our way, stopped at 
the cottage of a labouring Parsee to taste the 
toddy made from the wild date tree. A naked 
coolie went up the tree like a monkey, with a 
hoop of pliable bamboo round his waist, and 
round the tree, to keep him to it, and then bore 
off by his feet, — hatchet and pitcher in hand, 
— tapped the tree, and brought down the 
pitcher full of juice. When allowed to ferment, 
it becomes intoxicating, and is the arrak. But 
when fresh, it is pleasant and healthful, 
slightly acid. Bhawoo Dajee takes us to the 
home of a wealthy Hindu. . . . Gardens 
large, level, exquisitely neat, and carefully at- 
tended. Low open-work walls of porcelain on 
each side of the walks. Servants in troops, four 
or five dusting one room. Sepoys at the door. 
[68 I 



First Year in Bombay 

... In a carriage saw a man having a full- 
sized crown on his head, with high points, gold 
or gilded. Bhawoo Dajee tells me he is one of 
the lineal descendants of Mohammed. ... It 
is worth coming to Bombay to see a lineal de- 
scendant of Mohammed ! 

"Wednesday, July i8. The [Merwanjee] 
women were most richly dressed, short, low 
tunics, and long robes of bright colours, and 
jewelled rings in the ears, at top and bottom, 
in one nostril, on neck and wrists and fingers 
and ankles and toes, barefooted, of course, 
except that they have ornamented slippers, 
into which they sometimes thrust their feet. 
Hair black, eyes black or dark, complexions — 
the best are fair olive, but ordinarily yellow, 
noses aquiline and sharp, and a kind of Jewess 
look, usually very thin. . . . When I rose to 
leave, they gave me a bouquet and showered 
me with rose-water from a silver censer, and 
brought me paun soparees on a waiter, — these 
are little mixtures of spicery rolled up in a betel 
leaf, which the natives are fond of chewing. 
They are agreeable, I have become fond of 
them. Betel nut is an ingredient of allspice, 
cloves, etc. . . . 

[ 69 ] 



Married Life 

"This evening at about eight o'clock set ofF 
with Mr. Stearns for Poona in the Deccan, 
the ancient capital of the Mahratta Empire, 
the headquarters of the Brahmin power in 
Southern India. The great enterprise of the 
railroad has brought Poona within attainable 
distance, and only the Ghauts mountains are 
to be crossed on foot. Went up by night because 
Mr. Stearns could only give two whole days. 
... At stopping places, heard jackals close 
to the cars, and occasional distant other cries, 
which may have been tigers. 

"About midnight reached Kampoolie, where 
the road stops at the foot of the Ghauts, and 
we take palkees to ascend the Ghauts by torch- 
light. It is dark and rainy, and we see nothing 
but high hills against the sky, and the flash of 
torches along the steep, winding ascent. I get 
a palkee, a. kind of palanquin, in which one lies 
nearly at length, — not high enough for sitting 
up, with sliding doors on each side, borne on 
men's shoulders, two before and two behind. 
. . . My palanquin had ten men, and I sup- 
pose each had the same, four bearers, four 
reliefs, and two torch-bearers. . . . About 
three o'clock in the morning we reached 

[70] 



First Year in Bombay 

Khandala, where the railroad begins again, 
and half-sleeping, half-waking, were precipi- 
tated along to Poona, which we reached just 
at dawn. I believe the distance is one hundred 
and thirty miles from Bombay. 

"Thursday, July 19. The ancient city of 
Poona is about a mile below us, the British 
garrison about two miles off, on the high plain. 
. . . We walked through the camp bazaar, 
. . . the fish bazaar, the meat bazaar, the 
fruit bazaar, and the vegetable bazaar, and the 
usual varieties of mango, pineapple, pomelo, 
pomegranate, banana, custard-apple, etc., etc., 
and the usual sprinkling of Parsees and Mus- 
ulmans among the Hindus. 

"Out of the bazaar, the streets are wide and 
straight, and lined with bungalows of Euro- 
peans, each having the occupant's name on a 
sign at the gate. . . . Soldiers abound. . . . 
Many of the trees are tropical and aromatic, 
like the mango, nutmeg, etc. ... It rains 
every hour or two. . . . After tiffin, ride to 
Parvutti Hill (to see famous old Hindu tem- 
ples). Get out at foot and walk up. Broad 
stone steps all the way up, twenty feet wide or 
more. . . . Temples in the Saracenic style, 

[71] 



Married Life 

with numerous little domes and minarets, and 
richly coloured. Not permitted to enter — pro- 
fanation. . . . They say they do not worship 
the idol, but only reverence the representation 
of a Divine Power or Agency. . . . From the 
battlements of the temple a fine view of the 
great plain and distant empire. . . . Returned 
slowly through the ancient city. . . . There, 
too, are some very pretty tanks, and women 
bearing water on their heads, and bullocks with 
leathern panniers filled with water, and mone- 
tary looking Parsees, with receding hats, and 
Hindus with the patch of * caste ' on the fore- 
head, and the grave Musulmans, and turbans 
of red and yellow and white and green, and 
dangling robes of all colours. . . . Here, too, 
the common women are bangled and spangled 
and ringed like the richest Hindu matron, the 
only difference being that the one wears real 
gold and jewels, and the others glass and 
brass; but, at a distance, the common woman 
is the counterpart, with her nose-rings and 
ear-rings, necklaces, bracelets, finger- rings, 
anklets, and rings on her toes. How proudly 
and daintily she steps ofi^, barefooted, bare- 
headed and bare-armed, with the water vessel 

[72] 



First Year in Bombay 

on her head, and her glitter and jangle of glass 
and brass! 

"Friday, July 20. Took railroad at 9.45 
A. M. for Bombay. . . . Took palkees to de- 
scend the Ghauts. This descent, which occu- 
pies about two and one half hours, is glorious! 
The road, cut by the native princes, centuries 
ago, to connect the upper Deccan with the sea- 
coast, winds down the mountains, as steep as 
men or bullocks can safely walk, while above, 
below and around are the hill-tops, the deep 
ravines and gorges, and the opening, far- 
stretching plains; and now, in the midst of the 
rains, the mountain-sides are alive with cas- 
cades. Water falls from all points, and in all 
forms and quantities. The bearers sing all the 
way, a rude line with a short chorus of two or 
three words. . . . Reached Bombay at dark, 
where Stearns's faithful gora-wallah and coach 
were waiting for us. . . . 

"Saturday, July 21. [After enumerating the 
seventeen servants.] These are men. Then 
there is the ayah (child's nurse). Mrs. Stearns 
is thought very self-denying not to have an 
amah, or waiting-woman for herself; and when 
the pair of horses is out in the carriage, one of 

[n] 



Married Life 

the gora-wallahs is coachman, which is an 
economy. Each gora-wallah sticks to his 
horse, and either drives him or sits behind, or 
runs by his side. No coach goes without at 
least one footman, and often two. They run 
before, when coming to a corner, to warn and 
give notice, and stand by the horse's head when 
the coach stops. . . . 

"Thence to Bhawoo Dajee's. . . . Several 
Hindu friends of rank come in and are pre- 
sented. The first entertainment is a juggler. 
He sits on the floor of the veranda, and we sit 
in chairs directly before him, and he has no 
table, or accomplice, or long sleeves, or any 
means of concealment, except a small coarse 
bag which lies by him. He is a Mohammedan 
and has grave and decorous manners, salaam- 
ing to us before and after each trick. He pro- 
duced a small mango tree with flowers from 
nothing, and brought several cooing doves from 
nowhere, and burned out the insides of his 
mouth, and performed inexplicable tricks with 
cups and balls. Bhawoo Dajee apologized for 
not getting a snake-charmer. They are not 
here in the * rains.' Next came a man with two 
bears, who . . . salaamed, wrestled, were 

[74] 



First Year in Bombay 

thrown, etc. Then came a man with monkeys 
and goats, who acted Httle farces, taking parts 
of soldiers, old women, etc., he singing all the 
time, and shaking a little drum which was thus 
beaten by two balls on the ends of strings. 

"Now we adjourned to the parlors, and 
minstrels came. One played an instrument like 
a guitar with a bow. The other played a lute 
and sang. The songs were in Hindustani, 
Marathi, Gujerathi, and Persian. ... I liked 
the Persian songs best. They had more air and 
the words were more articulate. They were 
like Spanish airs. Next a boy of fifteen or six- 
teen sang, the most celebrated boy singer in 
Bombay. . . . The next and last entertain- 
ment was a mimic. He gave imitations of 
Brahmin pundits disputing on a nice point of 
metaphysics, of Parsees chanting their prayers, 
and of a Brahmin reading passages of San- 
skrit and expounding them. The latter caused 
great merriment among our grave friends, for 
Bhawoo Dajee says the Sanskrit was mere 
sound, and the interpretation mere jumbles of 
great words. Then he imitated Arabs singing 
in deep, hoarse voices, ending almost in a bray, 
and the sharp, high-voiced people of the Carna- 

[75] 



Married Life 

tic. I called for an imitation of English. He 
declined, but when I insisted he gave one. . . . 
He rubbed his chin, rubbed his knees, worked 
his face, turned his head on one side and the 
other, talked in a thick voice, often too low to 
be heard, and as it were by jerks, with awk- 
ward attitude and motions. . . . 

"After this very agreeable entertainment 
we drove ... to a beautiful Mohammedan 
mosque, very large, of white stone, with nu- 
merous domes. Then to the chief Parsee Fire 
Temple. ... In the centre, where I cannot 
enter, is a room with a kind of altar, on which 
burns the perpetual fire. It is a clear, hot after- 
noon, and from the walk we see the broad 
Back Bay, and the Parsees making their even- 
ing worship to the sea. . . . They honour by 
outward reverence all great manifestations of 
goodness and power. In theory the sea and sun 
have no being, no soul, no power to will or do, 
and are not treated as persons, but the people 
declare and speak out by outward reverence 
their admiration of the greatness and benefits 
of the sun and sea. 

"Stopped at place where four streets met, 
and sat in our carriage while Bhawoo Dajee 

[76] 



First Year in Bombay 

pointed out to me the races, castes, nationalities, 
and occupations of the thronged passers-by. 
He knew them all by dress and feature — 
Mohammedan, Parsee, Hindu, Persian, Arab, 
Nubian, and the Marathis, Gujerathis, Sikhs, 
Bengalees, Rohillas, etc. Among them were 
devotees, fakhirs, one who lived under a log 
by the wayside, and wore his hair to the waist 
uncombed, and lived on charity. He was a 
travelling fakhir, and had seen all parts of 
India, going from temple to temple. 

"Then to the dense bazaars, where one can 
hardly breathe for the closeness. ... A Mo- 
hammedan beggar stands in the middle of the 
street, with a fan, and gives a single stroke of 
the fan toward each passerby. Bhawoo Dajee 
says the theory is that every benefit, however 
slight, calls for a return, and a whiff of a fan 
in the heat is a benefit, and he is to be compen- 
sated. . . . All houses have a vestibule to 
drive under, a protection against sun and 
rain. . . . 

"My friend, Bhawoo Dajee, had got me an 
invitation to a party at the home of a Parsee 
millionaire, one Byramjee Hormmusjee Carna- 
jee. ... In the supper-room a long table is 

[77] 



Married Life 

set with fruits, flowers and cakes, — no meats 
or fish, — and an abundance of wine. . . . 
From the dining-room we went into the large 
saloon, where seats are ranged against the wall, 
on three sides, the outer doors being the fourth 
side. At the head of the room are the seats of 
honour, and from these the guests shaded down 
to those of the lower degrees near the doors. 
. . . The entertainment consisted of music 
and dancing by Nautch girls. This is the usual 
entertainment at Parsee and Hindu parties, for 
their ladies are never present and they never 
dance themselves. . . . The guests sit round 
the three sides of the square, the Parsees in 
high receding hats, red loose trousers and white 
cassocks, and the Hindus in turbans of all 
shapes and colours, tunics and togas wrapped or 
draped about them, and all without stockings, 
and some without shoes, and conforming to 
the European custom of sitting in chairs, they 
still ease themselves occasionally by gathering 
up one leg or both legs. 

"At the other end, by a pile of shawls and 
cushions on the floor, sit two Nautch girls, 
and two grave musicians, playing on stringed 
instruments. 

[78] 



First Year in Bombay 

"The gravity and even sadness of the coun- 
tenances of these girls was most striking. It 
fascinated you. What can it mean ^ What 
hidden grief .^ What concealed sickness .? 

" Presently the elder, who is perhaps eighteen 
or twenty, rises and begins the dance. She is 
dressed as a Persian, in a rich gown coming 
to the knees, with pantaloons below. . . . The 
dance is as slow and dull and meaningless as I 
have seen it described, — more like a funeral 
solemnity than a social entertainment. She is 
a Mahratta girl, of that warlike race that so 
long ruled the Carnatic and the Deccan and 
gave so much trouble to the English. . . . She 
is very, very thin, very, very sallow, with damp 
black hair parted and drawn back from her 
ears, and deep, deep dark eyes. How fixed, sad, 
serious is their look ! Is this all mere colour, or 
is it character .? 

"Now the girls retire and come in again in 
their native Hindu dress. The graceful mantle 
or wrapper, gathered across the shoulders and 
falling as drapery to the figure. . . . Now the 
girls sit and only sing. The other girl is only 
twelve or thirteen, does not dance at all, and 
only sings to accompany the elder. The songs, 

[79] 



Married Life 

which Bhawoo Dajee translates to me, are all 
light, fanciful love-songs, and here . . . the 
woman is the lover, the adorer and the suf- 
ferer. . . . Before leaving we have bouquets, 
paun soparees (s^'iCQS and betel nuts in a soparee 
leaf), and were sprinkled with rose-water. 

"Sunday, July 22. Rode home from church 
over Malabar Hill, from the Back Bay, a pic- 
turesque scene of high rocks, deep dells, and a 
climbing carriage way. 

"All along this hill, across it and on the 
western slope are the bungalows of all who can 
afford to live out of town, — that is, afford the 
necessary horses, carriages, and servants. 

"Spent the evening with my kind host and 
hostess, for to-morrow I leave India. . . . 

"Monday, July 23. Stearns goes with me to 
the pier, . . . over which the monsoon is 
pitching the waves in wild confusion. ... At 
5 p. M. steam out of the Bay, which is a truly 
noble harbour, of vast dimensions, yet safe, 
and in the dim, cloudy monsoon, leave the far- 
outreaching reefs over which the seas are 
tossing, behind us." 

Mr. and Mrs. Stearns's first year of married 

[80] 



First Year in Bombay 

life was nearly gone. He said on the twenty- 
third of August, i860: "A year ago to-morrow 
I surrendered my independence. It was the 
jolliest operation I ever went into. . . . Not- 
withstanding I thought I knew Emmie thor- 
oughly before marriage, I was hardly prepared 
to find her so well booked up upon almost every 
subject. Had the United States been searched 
through and through for a better girl, it would 
have been in vain. They say that Move is 
blind '; luckily in my case it don't at all apply. 
. . . We are as happy as clams at high-water.'* 
"The year has been one of happiness," 
wrote Mrs. Stearns. "We have both enjoyed 
excellent health. Will has been prospered in his 
business [there were at that time twenty ships 
loading], and we have really had nothing . . . 
at which to repine. Do not understand me to 
mean that we do not miss our friends. Far 
from it. You cannot entertain such a thought 
for a moment. . . . We love our friends far 
too well to be willing to remain so far from 
them any longer than necessity requires. . . . 
Let me tell you that it is quite in fashion to 
complain of living here. Many of the English, 
especially since the mutinies, dislike India very 

[81] 



Married Life 

much, and sigh continually for the time when 
they may leave the country, never to return. 
There are many reasons which cause this feel- 
ing. Our principal one is the fact that children 
cannot remain here after the age of five or six 
without injury, so that as soon as they reach 
this age, they are almost invariably sent home, 
to be placed with friends, or, as is often the 
case, with entire strangers, till their parents 
can return to England, or till they are of age 
to come back to India with safety. You will 
see that a large majority of the families are 
broken in this way, and do you wonder that the 
mothers sigh for the time when these sad sepa- 
rations may be ended .? Sometimes a wife finds 
it impossible to bear the Indian climate, and is 
obliged to go home, leaving her husband here, 
perhaps with no hope of coming out again. 
A friend of mine has just now gone home, with 
no hope of seeing her husband for at least six 
years. She has tried three times to remain here, 
going home when her health has failed, and 
then returning again to her husband, till now 
she is obliged to give up all hope of being able 
to bear the climate. Her husband, being in the 
service, could do nothing at home, and must 

[82] 



First Year in Bombay 

remain for six years till he can get a pension — 
when he may hope to see his wife and children, 
if they are spared to him so long. . . . You 
will see that in our case we have something to 
draw us home. This little boy must be thought 
of, and I hope we may be able to come home 
as soon as his age shall demand a change. 
You will be glad to know that the climate is 
considered very favourable for children, till 
they reach the age I have mentioned." 

How could a young girl, most of whose life 
had been passed on a New England farm, fail 
to be swept off her feet by the splendour of this 
oriental life .? Mrs. Stearns adapted herself to 
it completely. Superficially speaking, she had 
had no preparation for it. Was it her unerring 
judgment, her clear-eyed perception of the 
value of outside things, which kept her un- 
spoiled ^ Or did a premonition of the change 
which actually came "maintain her balance 
and carry her with dignity through great pro- 
sperity into the sorrow and hardship which 
ennobled her after days .? " However it may be, 
there was a reason deeper than mere adaptabil- 
ity for her distinction, her grace, her poise. 

[83] 



Married Life 

No accomplishment which one may have 
spent years in gaining makes a universal ap- 
peal; no specialty, bringing the homage of 
half the world, wins the praise or even the 
interest of the other half; not even the posses- 
sion of any single virtue confers certain dis- 
tinction. The only thing that starts a warm 
pulse of sympathy wherever in the world one 
goes, the thing which brings a sort of instinc- 
tive deference from a Hindu as well as a Pu- 
ritan, and which is detected at a glance, is the 
whole of a person, his "consolidated'' char- 
acter, effected by a life of self-control and 
high ideals. Such a character had Mrs. 
Stearns. 

The outward events of her married life made 
it one of glittering romance. Yet for her the 
romance was only in the perfection of her 
home-happiness. It was a sort of prism 
through which she beheld all the glories of 
India. 

A study of Mr. Stearns only serves by con- 
trast to set her character in greater relief. His 
impulsive enthusiasm warmed through her 
"less ardent nature.'* She delighted in his 
happy, winning boyishness, and in his love of 

[84] 



William French Stearns 



First Year in Bombay 

mischief, which was utterly irrepressible. On 
one occasion, in Cambridge, an old man who 
sat in front of the Stearns family at church, 
found, after a long sermon, his queue care- 
fully braided on to the pew, and only inno- 
cent little Willie sat behind ! He never did 
grow up. Teasing was his delight, and he 
would sometimes snap a nut across the table 
at his wife in the midst of an official dinner — 
much to her dismay. He looked on the world 
through rose-coloured glasses, and found it im- 
possible to be cast down. He was always hope- 
ful, optimistic, with a famous sense of humour. 
There was a kind of exuberant good-fellow- 
ship about him. Yet the weakness of this par- 
ticular trait was not his. He did not lack moral 
courage. In spite of his impressionable tem- 
perament, his integrity of purpose was un- 
flinching. He was determined, undespairing 
in the pursuit of a high aim. He "always 
expressed the utmost indignation at vulgarity 
or profaneness." It was said that if a ques- 
tionable story was to be told, it was never 
begun till Mr. Stearns had left the room. 

The hackneyed phrase, "generous to a 
fault," would have found in him its definition. 

[85] 



Married Life 

He was affectionate, courteous, thoughtful, 
comforting. Every one wanted to confide in 
him immediately. As one of his contemporaries 
expressed it, "There was never any need of 
preliminaries with such a man." 

Yet his bounding mainspring needed a con- 
trol. He relied on the advice and unfailing 
intuition of his wife, which he never followed 
in vain. He trusted her judgment entirely — 
a judgment never at fault. To use his own 
expression, "I have an unbounded, mad faith 
in the other side of the house." She gave him 
stability. An elastic sense of the joy of life 
he supplied to her. They perfectly comple- 
mented each other. 

As has been said, religion was their supreme 
concern. Indeed, if religion is not the supreme 
concern of strong natures, it is apt to seem the 
subject most negligible, although the inevitable 
results are so different. Had their views on 
this subject differed, she once said, she would 
never have married him, adding, "A love which 
must end with this life ! — I confess I cannot 
care for anything so short-lived and unreal." 

A moral life was not sufficient to them. 
Their joy lay in finding out God's will; then, 
[86] 



First Year in Bombay 

in asking for His help to carry it out. As they 
agreed in this, their ideals and aspirations, 
their tastes, even, became similar. And so, after 
all, their lives were unified by that great " force 
which produces love to God and service of 
men." 



[87] 



II 



Matheran 

It was the custom for the fashionable world 
of Bombay to withdraw to the Hills during the 
rainy season. Poona, shimmering under the 
steady downpour of sunlight, up above the 
storm-clouds which weighed upon Bombay, 
was a favourite place. But Matheran, among 
its jungle thickets, a quieter, and more retired 
spot, was Mrs. Stearns's paradise. Mr. Stearns 
wrote to his brother Frazar, "Matheran is a 
thousand-fold more beautiful than Poona, and 
had you seen it, you would have had a glimpse 
of Indian scenery quite equal to anything this 
side of the Himalayas. It is a place of most 
surpassing loveliness and grandeur, . . . the 
views are magnificent beyond description. We 
are surrounded by the tops of mountains. On 
many of them are the famous * Hill Forts.' . . . 
There are spots where you can look sheer 
down . . . steep precipices into the valley be- 
low, a distance of twenty-seven hundred feet, 
[88] 



Math E RAN 

and see the trees like little shrubs, the rivers 
like little silver brooks, and the mountains in 
the distance like little hillocks. . . . There are 
deep dark ravines, chasms, rents and fissures 
in the rocks. I was absolutely frightened at 
the beauty of some of the places Emmie and 
I visited the other day." 

The air was filled with the foreign odours of 
flowers, "jewelled" butterflies, and birds with 
startling contralto voices — all steeping in 
tropical sunlight. Mrs. Stearns first saw 
Matheran on the twentieth of October, i860. 
Her own account can be quoted. "You may 
imagine that my coming here is quite an event 
in my Indian life, for, as Mr. FaithfuU re- 
minded me on our way, it is the first time that 
I have been on the continent of India. 

" But to return and tell you why I am here. 
It was thought best that I should leave Bom- 
bay during the month of October, which is 
considered the most unhealthy in the year. 
So we have taken a cottage of Mr. FaithfulFs 
for half the season, the season being three 
months. I came up just a week ago in company 
with Mr. and Mrs. Faithful!, who make me 
their guest for a week till I become accus- 

[89] 



Married Life 

tomed to the place, and then leave me in posses- 
sion of the cottage. Will is obliged to remain 
in Bombay during the week, but comes up to 
spend Sundays . . . of course. The journey to 
this place is an easy and pleasant one. I think 
we left Bombay at about half-past nine o'clock 
in the morning, travelling for fifty miles by 
cars to a place called Narell. . . . After taking 
a tiffin here, we commenced the ascent of the 
mountains, Mr. Faithfull upon a horse, Mrs. 
Faithfull and myself in palkees, and the ser- 
vants upon horses, at least those of them who 
consider themselves too grand to walk! The 
ascent [eight miles of break-neck precipices] 
occupied about two and a half hours, com- 
mencing in the most fearful heat, and ending 
by our being obliged to make use of all the 
warm clothing we had with us. . . . We are 
in the most charming climate possible. The 
early morning and evening are very cool, so 
that we sleep under thick blankets with the 
greatest comfort. The middle of the day is a 
little warmer, but the heat is entirely different 
from that in Bombay." 

The "cottage" was a long, low bungalow, 
surrounded by a wide veranda in the midst 

[90] 



Math E RAN 

of carefully kept gardens. Mrs. Stearns loved 
to sit on one corner of this veranda, an open 
book in her lap lying idle as she looked down 
over the terraces far into the deep valley, a 
score of little showers at one time trailing 
across countless miles of jungle toward the 
changing lights of the distant mountains. 

Trees here, as well as flowers, have their 
characteristic tints. In the midst of a clump of 
dark-green mangos is a "flame of the forest," 
alive with darts of scarlet flowers among 
its delicate leaves. Close by is the "fanlike 
foliage of the palmyra," the favourite tree of 
"that luxurious bird, who lights up the cham- 
bers of its nest with fireflies." A stalwart cassia 
or silken-plantain, just beyond, wreathed with 
vines and sheltering families of orchids in its 
crotches, is making its individual autumn. 
On the other side of the garden, from the top 
of a tamarind, a giant creeper hangs, on its 
end a spreading bird's-nest fern, which sways 
slowly like a great candelabra. The mammoth 
things of the world grow here ! 

And yet, close by the path crawls the sen- 
sitive plant, fine-leafed, exquisite, whose whole 
length shrivels under a touch. And there, 

[91] 



Married Life 

fluttering over the roses, is a new butterfly, its 
wings a film of lace-work. How does it fly on 
those wide, gossamer wings ? How can its 
weightless body resist the smallest breeze ? 
"All the thickets rustle with small life of liz- 
ard, bee, beetle and creeping things." Surely 
we had not been thinking of nature's mammoth 
growths — but of her most delicate creations ! 

From the sky-gardens which grew in the tops 
of the trees below, the breeze brought faint 
perfume. " It seemed as if it must be the home 
of the Peris, those beautiful creatures of the 
air, who live upon perfumes." The very atmo- 
sphere "seemed full of utterances that you 
could almost hear . . . but for the something 
that made them all a mystery." 

A soft-footed Hindu servant came to present 
a flower to Madame Sahib. A wonderful bird, 
a pagoda thrush perhaps, perched close by, 
and after a moment the air reverberated with 
the fervour of its hollow, ringing song. 

Here Mrs. Stearns studied those countless 
miracles of the rainbow insect and vegetable 
world — expressed in more vivid terms than 
in our demurely coloured outdoors. But the 
prodigal iridescence on a tropical butterfly's 

[92] 



Math E RAN 

wing meant more to her than the mere sight 
of something beautiful. Could it be hard, in 
looking at the butterfly, to imagine what the 
spirit must be ? 

"And as I was walking there, and looking 
up on the sky and clouds, there came into my 
mind so sweet a sense of the glorious majesty 
and grace of God that I know not how to 
express. After this . . . the appearance of 
everything was altered; there seemed to be, 
as it were, a calm, sweet cast, or appearance of 
divine glory in almost everything. God's ex- 
cellency. His wisdom. His purity and love 
seemed to appear in everything; in the sun 
and moon and stars, in the clouds and the blue 
sky, in the grass, flowers, trees; in the water 
and all nature." 

Mrs. Stearns was never alone. During the 
week, she and her guests would direct the 
catching of the gorgeous butterflies by dark- 
eyed boys in loose white garments and bung- 
ling turbans, who ran about among the flow- 
ers, fearless of the relentless sun. During a 
visit home, Mr. Agassiz saw one box from her 

[93] 



Married Life 

collection. She told him to take those he cared 
for. He took the entire box, and she spent 
several years trying to duplicate its contents. 

There were many bungalows on the hill, 
and on Saturday nights the men came out from 
Bombay. As they left the railway miles below, 
the ladies looked down and watched them zig- 
zag upward through the jungle, along a path 
afoot wide, with high precipices up on one side 
and down on the other. Sometimes as they were 
struggling up from the valley, a chattering army 
of gray apes descended upon them, menacing 
and terrifying the poor, minute ponies. Mr. 
Stearns would laugh, and tugging at the bri- 
dle of his little frightened steed, would de- 
clare: "Well, he won't come up, so I suppose 
I Ve got to take him up ! " 

The life of this first year in India is typical 
of them all. It continued more or less the same 
throughout Mr. and Mrs. Stearns's stay in the 
East. 



[94] 



Ill 

Indian Incidents 

The business interests of Mr. Stearns were 
constantly increasing. He was made a director 
of the Bombay Steam Navigation Company. 
He was interested in the Red Sea cable and the 
telegraph line through Persia. Of the cable he 
said, "What an astonishing achievement that 
is ! . . . We shall be within twenty-four hours' 
communication in case of necessity. Think 
of it! ... On and after the first of January 
[1861] our house will be changed by the addi- 
tion of Mr. J. L. Hobart of Boston [who had 
come five months previously] as a partner, 
and the name changed to Stearns, Hobart and 
Company. ... He brings a large business 
and by the connection enables us to become the 
first and best American house in Western India, 
with the prospect, and a very fair one it is, 
o( the first position in the East, before six years 
have passed." Mr. Hobart, as well as Mr. 
Healey, who had returned to India from Boston, 

[95] 



Married Life 

lived with the Stearnses. Mr. Stearns con- 
tinued: "I was speaking of our clerks; did I 
ever tell you their names ? My first is named 
Masquirenas; second (half-caste), Phillips; 
third, Nuggindass; fourth, Maddaram; fifth, 
Atmaram; sixth, Cassinath; seventh, Wassoo; 
eighth, Kessoo; ninth, Narayen; tenth, don't 
know; eleventh, Mooljee; twelfth, Hurryvul- 
lubhdass; thirteenth. Hurry; fourteenth to 
twentieth, don't know. Then there is Pandoo- 
rang and Ruttonjee and a host of others." Of 
another employee he says, " His name is Was- 
soo. I learned it in the days of my simplicity 
when I thought that a name was a necessary 
appendage to one." 

In a long letter written to his father on the 
second of December, i860, Mr. Stearns tells of 
the baptism, in the Mission Church, of little 
William Kittredge Stearns. The congregation 
consisted of about sixty native Christians. He 
added: "What a field for Christian effort here. 
... A man cannot live here long without hav- 
ing his feelings strongly enlisted in the cause of 
missions. Suppose that no converts are ever 
made, that you only educate. It is a step. . . . 
Oh, how lifeless and dull the best of Christians 

[96] 



Indian Incidents 

are ! Why don't they do more ? Why don't 
they pray harder and give more ? . . . The sun 
is setting rapidly in the west. How I should 
like to send a message of love by him to you 
all!" 

The winter passed as usual. Mrs. Stearns 
wrote: "There has been a large number of 
balls this season, given by members of the 
council, and others. . . . Last week we were 
invited to one at the house of Commodore 
Wellesley, who is, I believe, a nephew of the 
Duke of Wellington. . . . We have formed a 
choral society for practising choruses, and are 
learning the Messiah. Mrs. FaithfuU is the 
chief soloist. She is attempting to cultivate my 
voice a little. . . . Just now we are getting 
up a concert for the sufferers by the famine." 

Music was to farm a large part of Mrs. 
Stearns's Indian life. Her own voice was high 
and very sweet, though at this time untrained. 
She used to sing every evening, and delighted 
especially in Gounod. 

In May, 1861, Mr. Hobart, the young part- 
ner of Mr. Stearns, died in agony of Bombay 
fever at their house. On account of the horror 
of his hallucinations, his final illness was a 

[97] 



Married Life 

fearful strain for them both. Mr. Stearns de- 
clared that he almost broke down under it. 
For over four days and nights neither of them 
slept. Mrs. Stearns sat with the dying man a 
large part of the time, as Mr. Hobart's bro- 
ther, who was at the house also, himself went 
distracted after the second day of the illness. 
Her calmness, a form of bravery in which she 
was to excel, was a marvel to every one. It was 
never until some occasion demanded courage 
and resolute endurance that the resources of 
her nature were unfolded. After Mr. Hobart's 
death, deeply saddened, they went away to the 
Hills to find comfort in their " sweet Matheran." 

After spending several months in the moun- 
tains, where she gained peace and courage, 
Mrs. Stearns, with Willie, returned to Bombay 
in September. Mr. Stearns wrote, "Do you 
know what swell people humble little Kitty 
and lawless Will have become .? Perhaps 
Emmie will tell you how we dined with the 
Commodore. . . . His party was as follows " : 
— and he enumerates the military secretaries 
to the government, the council of the gover- 
nor, the nephew of the Dukeof Wellington, etc. 

Mrs. Stearns wrote to Eliza Stearns from 

[98] 



Indian Incidents 

Bombay, on the twenty-fifth of September, 
1861: — 

"Last evening Mrs. Faithful! had a musical 
soiree at her house, at which your poor, timid 
sister was 'brought out/ I mean in a musical 
way. As Mrs. Faithfull has been saying, 'Now, 
Mrs. Stearns, you have been practising with 
me for some time, and have improved your 
voice, I wish to bring you out a little.' Painful 
as this seemed to me, I felt obliged to submit, 
as I had promised in the beginning to do what- 
ever she told me, and to consider myself to 
all practical purposes as under a master. . . . 
The programme of the evening consisted of 
three parts — the first, selections from a Stabat 
Mater by Pergolesi ... in which I had the 
soprano part and a duet. The second part com- 
prised, among other things, an instrumental 
trio, a sonata by Beethoven, a German song 

by our German friend, Mr. A . . . and a 

song by Madame T , a most cultivated 

French singer. At this point in the programme 
we indulged in ice creams, after which came 
selections from the Creation. We sang nearly 
all the choruses and I had, besides, the soprano 
parts in two trios and one solo. We had for an 

[99] 



Married Life 

accompaniment the piano and violins; for an 
audience, I cannot tell you the number, but a 
very large drawing-room and verandas v^ell 
filled. . . . The evening closed with a sup- 
per. . . . 

"Knowing my timidity, you will easily un- 
derstand that the evening was an anxious one 
to me. It was my first trial of singing alone 
before so many people (I mean in Bombay), 
and though I did not do all I wished, on the 
whole I am encouraged to persevere." 

It is interesting to know that after this Mrs. 
Stearns was called the "American Nightin- 
gale"! 

A very characteristic letter describes her 
genuine joy in the arrival of a box of dresses 
for Willie, and bonnets and patterns for her- 
self, from which her tailor would make her 
gowns. 

"You have no idea how much pleasure there 
is in the reception of a box from home. . . . 
I have been trying on the * white Chesterfield' 
and the sacque and cape this morning. You 
should see the servants' delight at Willie's 
appearance in them. They are very proud of 
their children's appearance in the street. 
[ 100 ] 



Indian Incidents 

Cymon has just been telling me that 'plenty 
of sahibs say, ^' Kis ka haba half (Whose 
baby is this?) and then, "What a beautiful 
child ! '' ' He is often saying, * No baby so pretty 
as mine.'" 

For Mr. Stearns's annual vacation of four 
weeks they went, in October, 1861, to Maha- 
bleshwar, which Mr. Stearns described. "By 
looking upon a map of India, away to the 
south of Bombay, some hundred and fifty to 
two hundred miles, you will see the above- 
named place. A lovely hill station, say five 
thousand feet above the level of the ocean, and 
one of the finest, if not the very finest, sani- 
tarium in India. . . . We have our horses, 
which were sent up from Bombay — by sea 
to Mahr, on the Bankote river, then to Kola- 
pore, and from there to Parr Ghaut, winding 
up the mountains, a distance of at least twenty- 
five miles. Over this road we brought our 
phaeton. ... It could not be taken up by 
our horses, the roads being so steep and nar- 
row, but was dragged by a force of forty-five 
coolies ! " 

During all this time nothing has been said 
in regard to Mr. and Mrs. Stearns's attitude 

[ lOI ] 



Married Life 

toward the American Civil War, perhaps just 
on account of the fact that their thoughts were 
constantly occupied with this absorbing topic. 
Every letter is full of their anxieties, or their 
exultation over an advance made by the Union 
troops, the horror of the war, and comments 
upon what was being done in the way both 
of fighting and of administration. As Mr. 
Stearns expressed it: "We think of nothing, 
talk of nothing, dream of nothing else. . . . 
I sometimes feel that if I could go home to- 
morrow, and by the sacrifice of my life, gain 
so much for [our] dear native land, I would 
go with shouts and thanksgivings. . . . Did I 
not feel assured that I have another work to 
perform, and for which I am to give an account, 
... it would take me a precious short time to 
make up my mind about coming home and 
going into the army. . . . Oh, how anxiously 
we wait for the next news from home! The 
curtain falls on the most exciting part of the 
drama and we must wait, wait, wait. How 
wearily the days and hours pass ! " 

To his brother Frazar, who enlisted as first 
lieutenant of Company I, Twenty-first Regi- 
ment of Massachusetts Volunteers, Mr. Stearns 
[ 102 ] 



Indian Incidents 

wrote : " I have learned with no surprise of your 
entering the army. I quite approve of your 
course. ... Be temperate in all things; . . . 
don't be extravagant in either your expressions, 
wishes or expenditures. I need not tell you to 
be kind to a fallen foe; to war neither against 
women nor children; to commit no excesses, 
and to frown down all excesses of pillage and 
kindred vices. . . . Don't be boastful; prove 
by deeds, not by words; strive to bring your 
men up to your own standard ; don't stoop to 
theirs. Be kind to them, but firm; mix with 
them as a commander, not as an equal; not 
setting yourself above them as naturally a 
superior being, but as one who has attained a 
position, which, with diligence and good con- 
duct, is within their reach also." And to his 
father he said : " I 'm glad that Frazar is in the 
forefront of the battle where he may strike a 
blow — but I cannot help watching and 
thinking and praying intensely." 

In India they had, too, the further dread 
of war with England. 

"The last year has been one of extraordinary 
trial to us both, and this is at the end of three 
or four years of the severest and most unremit- 

[ 103] 



Married Life 

ting labour. . . . It has fallen to the lot of very- 
few to work as I have worked, and mind and 
body both need quiet." 

They decided to come home for a little visit. 
Mrs. Stearns said, in a letter written home on 
the twentieth of February, 1862: "Will is not 
sick, but the climate and the pressure of busi- 
ness are beginning to tell upon him. People 
cannot exert themselves here as in a colder 
climate, and Will will work. ... I do not 
know another merchant who has so much care. 
. . . Yet I feel much sadness at the thought 
of leaving. , . . There is the breaking up of 
our delightful home here, the dread of the long 
[two months] journey and the consciousness 
that such sad changes have taken place at 
home. God grant that no sadder ones may 
await our arrival, and that no one from the 
loved circles may be missing. . . . Mr. Healey 
will occupy our house during our absence.'' 

The last letter they wrote from Bombay, 
on the second of March, is followed by one 
from Paris dated April 23, 1862, after learn- 
ing of Frazar's death. Mr. Stearns said to his 
father: "I hardly know how to write you now. 
The peculiar circumstances under which I 
[ 104 ] 



Indian Incidents 

find myself have no parallel in my limited 
experience. . . . Anticipating eagerly a joy- 
ous meeting with the dear ones at home, I am 
appalled on my arrival here, to learn that one 
of the dearest of all has been so suddenly 
taken from us. I had made up my mind, with 
you, that Frazar was in the hands of God. 
. . . Nor does the event prove my mistake, 
though the blow is more crushing than I 
could have believed, . . . and though he has 
been removed in the midst of his manly prime 
and beauty, I cannot feel but that his is the 
glorious privilege to die, and ours the hard 
task to remain. You can best judge of the con- 
sternation and grief into which dear Emmie 
and I were thrown, when, in the absence of a 
solitary letter from home, I was perusing in a 
home paper an account of the capture of New- 
bern, to come suddenly upon the account of 
Frazar's death. . . . How can I offer sym- 
pathy to you when I need it so much myself.? " 
On the first of May he continued: "We, 
with our feeble intellects, attempt to lift the 
veil and learn the secret of God's providence. 
We think we can pierce the deep mystery that 
envelops the Almighty. The veil slowly rises 

[105] 



Married Life 

and shows us — our own impotency ! . . . 
Courage, dear father, by all you hold dear in 
this life and in the life to come, do not be cast 
down; by the comfort which you have carried 
to many a sorrowing heart, by the strength and 
consolation that I know God gives you at this 
time, do not grieve! . . . Who would not be 
proud of such a brother ? Dead, yet speaking 
in words of living light. . . . Sad, glorious and 
comforting ! " 

Mrs. Stearns, writing on the same day, said : 
"I confess that whenever I thought of the visit 
home, it was with the strong feeling that it 
might be a sad visit. Our thoughts were always 
of Frazar, because we knew him to be exposed 
to constant danger. . . . The last letter which 
we received from Frazar added much to our 
anxiety regarding him. It was written in so 
sad a strain, so full of tender love and resigna- 
tion to God's will, that when I read it, it seemed 
to me like a farewell letter, and I wept over 
it." 

In this very letter Frazar had said of Willie : 

"Don't love him too well. I am troubled 

whenever I look at him, for I think you will 

not have him long. I don't know why, but he 

[ io6] 



Indian Incidents 

looks more like an angel than a human 
being/' 

From Paris they went to London, sailing 
from Liverpool in late May, their home visit 
desolated by this tragic death. 



li 107 1 



IV 

Various Journeys 

When Mr. and Mrs. Stearns came back from 
India, it was always with an avalanche of 
camphor-wood boxes — cases of birds and 
butterflies for the boys, and wonderful em- 
broideries and dress-stuffs for the girls. There 
is a little list still remaining of one set of pur- 
chases, which sounds somewhat as if it had 
belonged to the Lord Treasurer of an oriental 
Rajah. Items: "Persian rug, cashmeres, scar- 
let and gold work, fur hood and cape, carved 
teak chairs, carved silver bracelets, Chinese 
embroidery on satin, talc paintings, ivory 
fans, sandalwood boxes and bracelets, rings, 
brooches, . . . Chinese rice paintings, carved 
ivory images and ornaments." 

Then they would tell stories of India, of the 
diamond dust between the eyelashes of the wo- 
men to make their eyes sparkle, of the " fairy- 
land cottage'' in Matheran, of the neat little 
jungle-cock, of that curious bird which whis- 
[io8] 



Various Journeys 

tied like an idle school-boy, — and just that 
was its name ! — of the gallops they would have 
at six o'clock in the morning, the horse free- 
reined, his rider joyously eager. And they de- 
scribed the woods glittering with every rainbow 
shade, the clearness of the atmosphere on the 
horizon, their long journeys, — the calm, blue 
weeks on the Indian Ocean, — and all the dif- 
ferent colours of the stars at night. 

Idolizing younger brothers and sisters looked 
upon them as visitors from the Arabian 
Nights, and could hardly make them seem real 
until they had gone away again, leaving pre- 
cious relics behind as a promise for the future. 

On their way back to India, arriving in De- 
cember of 1862, were many amusing experi- 
ences, among others the following: "We have 
had no less than four heavy seas in at our cabin 
windows within the last twenty-four hours. I 
have had several duckings. Our clothes have 
been saturated. But this morning capped the 
climax. A huge sea came up, burst in our cabin 
windows, and nearly smothered us. Emmie and 
Willie screamed, and I laughed. It did not take 
long for all hands to regain their composure. 
Poor Willie! He looked just like a drowned 
[ 109 ] 



Married Life 

rat, completely drenched from head to foot. I 
did not wonder much at his saying: *I think 
so plenty water come in this room.' " 

There were several events worth mentioning 
in the winter following. Mr. Stearns had dis- 
solved partnership with Mr. Healey on the 
eighth of January, 1863, and Mrs. Stearns's 
cousin, George A. Kittredge, came to Bombay 
to become Mr. Stearns's partner, and to live 
with them. They had as usual a house full of 
visitors, Mr. and Mrs. Chamberlaine, mission- 
aries in China, staying with them several weeks. 
"The Faithfulls," Mrs. Stearns wrote, "are 
really leaving Bombay in a few days. He has 
been appointed Judge of Belgaum. They are 
dining with us every night. The day after they 
leave we are going to Matheran." (Mr. 
Stearns bought the "lovely hill cottage" from 
Mr. Faithfull.) Mrs. Stearns was not only 
helping the missionaries, but arranged to have 
their pastor's wife, who was ill, after a long 
visit with them in Bombay, go to their house in 
Matheran to stay. She identified herself with 
the work for good in Bombay, as in every com- 
munity in which she lived. 

On the thirty-first of May, 1863, Harold 
[ no ] 



Various Journeys 

Stearns was born. They could not decide upon 
his name, and so he went for several months by 
the name of "Lot/' The letters of both Mr. 
and Mrs. Stearns are filled with the pranks of 
Willie, the progress of "Lot," and household 
affairs. 

Mr. Stearns wrote to his sister Eliza, on the 
twenty-sixth of July, 1 863 : — 

"He is the queerest boy about some things I 
ever saw. You can never astonish him or make 
him appear surprised. Sometimes, when I have 
been down to Bombay from Matheran for a 
week, and come up on Saturday night, he will 
hardly notice me. After two or three hours, 
though, the affection leaks out. . . . *Lot' 
continues to bloom and blossom, and all goes 
well, thank God ! . . . Willie has just gone 
out on his pony with Cymon and Ana — you 
don't know the latter individual. It is a mina 
[a small bird] that Cymon has caught and 
tamed. It follows him about like a dog. Just 
now Ana was roosting on the back of Floe — 
the pony. Willie was mounted on a new little 
saddle that I have had made for him. . . . And 
this is the way Willie started for his constitu- 
tional. . . . There comes Willie in from his 

[ III] 



Married Life 

ride. I hear him calling 'Ana, Ana, Ana ! ' He 
is a jolly, good little boy after all, if he is mine. 
He has grown very fast lately. Emmie thinks it 
a great pity that children won't stay put. . . . 

"Cymon just now caught my groom (ghora- 
wallah) stealing the horses' grains. My riding 
horse has been particularly logy for a day or 
two, and I have suspected that he did not get his 
full allowance. You may not know that the 
grain which we give horses here is much like 
dried peas and is a most palatable article of 
food for both man and horse. Well, just now 
Cymon caught the fellow making away with 
about half of my horse's allowance, the beggar ! 
We yesterday turned off our butler for making 
the daily account too large, and my coachman 
is in gaol for debt; . . . our dhohie stole some 
of our clothes and we had to put a policeman 
on his track. Mallee tries to hook a part of the 
cow's milk, and the baker tries to turn us off 
with number two bread ! All 's not gold that 
glitters, particularly in India. ... I think 
that some day I shall write a volume of * Ex- 
periences while in Bombay.' " 

The thirtieth of August, 1863, Mr. Stearns 
wrote from Poona: "The bigotry and super- 

[112] 



Various Journeys 

stition of Poona are unequalled in this part of 
India. There are more idols and idol temples 
in the native town than in any other city or 
town anywhere near us. Indeed the chief seats 
of idolatry in India are Benares and Poona. 
Poona is . . . the principal military station in 
the Presidency. The European part of the 
community is nearly as large as in Bombay. 
. . . The city is just far enough away from the 
Ghauts to be out of the influence of the heavy 
rains which fall along the entire length of the 
range. It is high enough (two thousand feet) 
above Bombay to be out of the influence of the 
damp, depressing climate of the plains, and 
to glory in the cool, comfortable mountain 
breezes, which, at this season of the year, make 
some parts of India so pleasant. It is cloudy 
most of the time, our rain falls in gentle 
showers, the nights are cold enough to make 
blankets comfortable. I should think the 
thermometer would average during the day not 
over 75°. In April and May when the hot 
winds blow and everything becomes parched 
and dry, it is fearfully warm; but with the 
exception of October, which is rather uncom- 
fortable, I don't think a pleasanter climate 

[113] 



Married Life 

could be found. Bombay from November to 
March, Matheran from April to June (or 
Mahableshwar), Poona from June to October, 
and again Matheran or Mahableshwar from 
that time on even to December, and you have a 
round of as fine vs^eather as can be found any- 
where, only, it is n't home ! More and more I 
begin to feel that there is nothing equal to New 
England springs. New England summers. New 
England autumns. New England winters. . . . 
So if I still continue to be prospered, don't be 
startled some day to get a letter saying that I 
mean to come home before 1875 for good, if 
nothing happens to prevent. FaithfuU is going 
home next spring, I think, and more than half 
the charm of India will be lost to us with their 
departure. It is very strange that FaithfuU and 
I should so pull together, and Mrs. Faithful! 
and Emmie are about as loving a pair as you 
ever saw." 

From Poona, Mrs. Stearns wrote Eliza, on 
the seventh of September, 1863: — 

"Did I not write you in my last letter that 
we were trying to get a house in Poona .? We 
found one at last, and thankful enough was 
I. ... It bears comparison with our sweet 

[ 114] 



Various Journeys 

Matheran, for I almost feel there that I am in 
another world. . . . Poona is like home in 
many respects. It is a large city, and yet in that 
part of the town in which our bungalow is sit- 
uated, the houses are much scattered, so that we 
are quite as much in the country as we could 
be in any part of Amherst. From the back of 
our bungalow we have delicious green fields as 
far as the eye can reach. The drives are de- 
lightful and we have a band of music nearly 
every night. As I have my carriage and horses, 
Will his riding horse, and Willie his pony, we 
enjoy these much. . . . Will and I generally 
go out before breakfast on what I term a 
* beetle hunt,' and it is so cool that we are able 
to be out oftentimes until nine o'clock without 
any harm. . . . During the rains the Govern- 
ment is removed from Bombay here, and nat- 
urally all the elite and fashion follow, so that 
there is a continual round of parties. . . . Only 
fancy Will leaving his business to remain here 
for two or three weeks at a time, and as con- 
tentedly as possible! He has been here a fort- 
night, has now gone to Bombay for the mail, 
will return in two or three days, when he 
intends going to Ahmednagar, the seat of our 

[ 115] 



Married Life 

missions, in company with Mr. Fairbank, one 
of our missionaries from that place, who is 
now visiting Poona. . . . 

"We have purchased a nice collection of 
minerals, mostly from the 'Bhore Ghaut,' 
from a Major Evershard." 

Mr. Stearns continued the story of the beetle 
hunts : — 

"We have had a rare good time the last day 
or two, and have added a number of specimens 
to our collection of rare critters. We found 
lots of scorpions, but these we don't collect." 
A little later : " I have . . . some few very fine 
nests and eggs . . . from the Celebes Islands, 
from a friend. . . . We have several very 
beautiful collections, one of insects, one min- 
erals, one birds, and one of shells"; and subse- 
quently "one of bird-skins, about two hundred 
and forty altogether." 

A week or two later, Mr. Stearns went to 
Ahmednagar. 

"I left the latter place [Poona] last Friday 
week, and after pushing through seventy-two 
miles of muddy roads, with the most miserable 
creatures that the world has ever produced in 
the shape of horses, in thirty hours, arrived at 
[ ii6] 



Various Journeys 

Nagar. . . . Did n't I enjoy a treat ! I was 
perfectly astonished by what had been done by 
the missionaries. I never before knew one 
tenth part of the good accompHshed, and I say 
it from my heart, I am ashamed that I ever 
before thought I knew anything. . . . The 
governor lately visited our mission schools and 
says that they are far ahead of the Government 
schools. . . . My feelings have changed re- 
garding missions since I came to India. . . . 
Nowhere can you find a more ardent sup- 
porter than I." 

At this time he made large donations to that 
mission, for the support of thirty boys and 
thirty girls, gave funds for the support of new 
chapels and schoolhouses, as well as teachers 
and native preachers. It is interesting to know, 
too, that a little girl who, attracted by music 
to the mission school, ate with the Christian 
teachers, lost caste and was shut up for two 
days by her mother, getting out with the help of 
a sympathizing uncle, and entering the school 
at last, was supported from that time on by 
Mrs. Stearns. In parenthesis, the money col- 
lected by Mrs. Stearns's pupils as a memorial 
to her, was sent to this school. 

[117] 



Married Life 

To Mr. Stearns " everything, the whole busi- 
ness of Hfe, was an affair of trusteeship. . . . 
The distribution of funds that God had placed 
in his hands, for purposes of distribution, was 
not regarded by him as charity, but as a part 
of the business devolving upon him as the 
Lord's steward.'' At this time he wrote to 
President Stearns that he was "thinking seri- 
ously " of giving a new chapel to Amherst Col- 
lege. He wished it to be " a stone, Gothic 
chapel, . . . combining simplicity, solidity, 
beauty; ... an appropriate, interesting, ele- 
vating affair, ... a model of . . . style, — ■ 
well proportioned, in good taste, for the stu- 
dents to study." His gift should "hinge en- 
tirely on this, the trustees accepting it on con- 
dition that it should never be used for secular 
purposes. . . . Let it be given solely for public 
worship," he said. "Would not this cover 
everything .? " 

About this time, also, he built the Stearns 
Mission Chapel on Harvard Street, in Cam- 
bridge, and encouraged enlistments in the Civil 
War in both Cambridge and Amherst, " by a lib- 
eral addition to the bounties of the soldiers." 
His financial standing at this time, he said, he 
[ ii8] 



Various Journeys 

"could not, even in [his] wildest dreams, have 
dared hope to reach." Besides his regular 
business, he was " Manager of the Bombay and 
Bengal Steamship Company, ... a director 
of the Royal Bank of India, ... a director 
in the Goa Oil Mills, ... to say nothing of 
the prospective agency of one of the largest 
New York Insurance Companies and the 
probable manager of another large local insur- 
ance company here. . . . We are likely to 
have a branch of our house at Bushire in Persia, 
and Kurrachee in Sind, with a prospect of one 
eventually in London." 

Yet, writing on the nineteenth of July, 1863, 
he said : "With regard to the future I can't say 
that I am without apprehensions. No true man 
or merchant can or ought to be without them, 
and though at present my sea is smooth and 
my sky clear, I know too well that there are 
storms which drive the staunchest ships on the 
rocks, and waves so large that the loftiest bark 
may be engulfed. I hope for the best, — and 
the best I try to bring myself to know and be- 
lieve, is God's wish and will. . . . He has 
trusted me and largely; if He sees fit to take 
away from me that with which He has trusted 

[ 119] 



Married Life 

me, while I am too human not to be deeply 
disappointed, I shall hope to say that it is His 
will; . . . and so, instead of settling down 
with a dried-up, narrow, mean course of life, 
keep stirring about till I find what He wants 
of me. Of one thing I am sure : that not a man 
has ever yet been made without some great and 
wise purpose; and that God does not create 
for nothing. So I shall strive to find out what 
He wants, and if I don't find it, it will be time 
enough for me to grow sour, weary, shiftless 
and miserable. . . . Perhaps this feeling is 
wrong. Don't you find it awfully hard some- 
times to tell the tares from the wheat — espe- 
cially when they are very young, and very 
green, and very tender .? " 



[ 120 ] 



The Persian Gulf 

After Mr. Stearns's vacation in Poona was 
over, Mrs. Stearns went to Matheran for a 
short time, returning to Bombay in November. 
Sometime before, Mr. Stearns had written to 
his sister EHza: "I am contemplating a trip 
to Persia, Turkey in Asia, and Arabia; would 
you go .? . . . The chances are about even, I 
believe, between returning and getting one's 
throat cut. It seems a great pity to have a 
thundering Persian kill you, when you might 
sacrifice your life to advantage for your coun- 

His reason for going there was to select a 
suitable locality for establishing a Persian 
branch of his house. He left Bombay on the 
eleventh of November, 1863. He kept a very 
full journal, part of which was sent to Mrs. 
Stearns during his absence, part of which he 
brought back to her. It has been hard to omit 
any of it, especially when I remember that these 

[ 121] 



Married Life 

very leaves have been turned by Mrs. Stearns, 
and all the events described here have been lived 
over by her so many, many times; but space 
is lacking to quote it all. The journal begins : 



"November 22, 1863. On board the S.S.Co- 
ringa. — We have sailed from the good town 
Bunder Abbas. . . . This place is under the 
Imam of Muscat and governed for him by one 
of his sheiks. We were received in the hall of 
state by the good sheik. . . . The old man had 
collected all the great men of the village with 
all the eminent strangers there to greet us. . . . 
There were in all about a hundred people 
gathered together, . . . Arabs, Persians, Hin- 
dus, Moguls, and one wild man of the desert, 
a pucka Bedouin, a restless, wild-looking spirit, 
fiery, wiry, and wildly handsome. We were all 
treated to coffee which the sheiks drank with 
us. . . . Then, after some little conversation, 
we were sent off under an escort of two men 
to see the town. . . . We were attracted by the 
sound of native music, tom-toms and the 
firing of guns, [and turned] toward a large inclo- 
sure where a grand dance was taking place . . . 
prior to a circumcision. ... At Lingah Kur- 
[ 122 ] 



The Persian Gulf 

rachee we breakfasted at Government house 
with the commissioner, and then spent the day 
driving out to Nugger pier to look at the croco- 
diles. . . . I could almost have hugged Cymon 
when he said to-day: 'I think so not another 
such like woman as Madame Sahib in all the 
world/ He said too, 'When I first saw Madame 
Sahib, then I know I like her. First time I 
heard her voice and saw her walk then I know 
she is very good/ . . . 

"December i6. Since last I sat down to 
write you, precious wife, you have come nearer 
being a widow than at any time since our mar- 
riage. . . . Thank God I am here to-day, 
alive and well and able to tell you the story 
of the horrors through which we passed on the 
night of December seventh. . . . 

" I write now on board the corvette of war 
of H. H. the Imam of Muscat, Prince of Wales, 
eleven guns. The ship [is] commanded by a 
most pleasing gentlemanly Arab. . . . 

"We arrived safely at Muscat from Bunder 
Abbas early on the morning of the seventh, went 
on shore . . . passed a very pleasant day . . . 
and went off to the ship about eleven o'clock 
in the evening. We were to sail at two a. m. 
[ 123 ] 



Married Life 

I consequently turned in at once in order to 
get a rest before being waked by the noise of 
departure. . . . About half-past one or two 
o'clock, I was awakened by the captain's voice. 
He seemed to be running out of his cabin, 
towards the bridge, and was shouting, *Let 
go the other anchor ! Let go the other anchor ! ' 
At the same moment ... a heavy body 
struck the ship. . . . My first impulse was 
to rush on deck, just as I stood ; my second was, 
no matter what may happen the ship can't 
sink at once; take your time; keep cool, dress 
yourself, so that in case you are wrecked, you 
won't be entirely destitute; look out for your 
watch and valuable papers; open your box 
and put whatever gold you may have in your 
breast-pocket, for you will need it; but don't 
trouble yourself about silver : it will prove too 
weighty. All these impulses I obeyed, and was 
on deck in an incredibly short space of time. 
. . . The sight which greeted my eyes when 
I got on deck surpasses belief. It was blowing 
hard, a heavy sea on, and we had drifted right 
across the bow of a large ship which I recog- 
nized as one of the vessels of war of the Imam. 
There we lay, and at each rise and fall of the 

[ 124] 



The Persian Gulf 

waves the huge man-of-war ascended and then 
fell with the force of a thousand trip-hammers 
upon us. At every blow there was a terrific 
crash and cracking of timbers so fearful that 
[I thought] both vessels would sink. With the 
blows was mingled the strangest confusion of 
noises that I ever listened to. The hoarse calls 
of the captain and officers, the yells of the las- 
cars, screams of the women and children, 
neighing of horses, cackling of hens, and the 
loud calls of our Arab friends upon Allah : 
'Oh,AllahJkbar!' . . . ' Allah Akhar!' We 
had on board a rich Nawab from Bagdad with 
some horses to run in the Bombay races. A 
more dejected, frightened man I never saw. 
Seizing me by the hand he cried: ^ Kya hat, 
Stearns sahib — kya hat? Oh arra kya karegaF' 

"I said: ' Kooch mut holo — kooch fickunay 
— suh uchcha karegaT 

"* Stearns sahib,' he replied, *Such bhat 
holta ? ' and wrung my hands as though I could 
save him. 

**The passengers were generally much fright- 
ened, and the crew seemed to hardly know 
what to do or whom to obey. ... I rushed 
forward to where the vessels were striking, 

[ 125] 



Married Life 

and saw our second officer on the top-gallant 
forecastle of the man-of-war, the Rahamany, 
loudly calling for help. He was so excited he 
could hardly speak, I mean he hardly knew 
what to say. He was calling for men to help 
him let go the chains of the Rahamany, but no 
one responded. As the big ship came down upon 
us with one of her terrible thumps, I sprang 
upon the rail of the Coringa, caught the head 
of the Rahamany, and scrambled up, only to 
tumble down the ladder of the latter upon her 
deck, scraping my shins and bruising my hand. 
It was no time to stop for shins, so I picked 
myself up, joined the mate, and for one hour 
worked hard with him attempting to slacken 
the Rahamany^s chains. . . . All this time 
the two vessels were rolling, striking, grinding 
together, and bit by bit, perhaps I had better 
say by wholesale, tearing away rigging, masts, 
yards, rails, etc. At every roll the mizzen- 
mast of the Coringa, the supports of which 
had been carried away, threatened to fall and 
crush us who were working at the chains of the 
Rahamany. It shook and wavered backward 
and forward like a reed, and each roll seemed 
positively to be the last. . . . 

[126] 



The Persian Gulf 

"As the ships separated, the second mate 
succeeded in getting on board the Coringa. 
I was left on board the Rahamany with several 
of the lascars and people, who, by this time, 
began to come off from the shore. ... I had 
been there but a few moments when suddenly 
the Coringa began to move toward the rocks, 
which were, I should judge, a quarter of a mile 
away. . . . Her distress signal-guns firing and 
blue lights burning could not be mistaken, and 
I at once set myself to work to save life. . . . 
You must imagine my horror, my pen is not 
equal to the task of describing it. I succeeded 
in getting off some three boats in all, one of 
them containing a hawser which was after- 
wards used in hauling the steamer off, and, at 
early dawn, left the Rahamany. I succeeded, 
though not without some difficulty, in getting 
on board the Coringa, and found that the pas- 
sengers had all been safely landed." 

[For saving many lives, Mr. Stearns was 
commended in all the Bombay papers.] 

"Cymon stood by the wreck and had been 
holding on to my black box which contained 
my valuables. I afterwards learned that he 
had resolved to swim on shore with it! . . . 

[127] 



Married Life 

Suffice it to say that, although in the greatest 
peril, when almost every other soul on board 
thought only of self, he stuck to the black box 
as though it was a child ! As the steamer was 
then making water very rapidly, we got all 
our baggage out, the horses at great risk of 
life and limb were safely landed, and the cargo 
discharged. Strange to say not a horse was 
hurt. We had some fifteen in all, and they 
were close to where the big ship broke our poor 
bones. Among the horses were four belonging 
to myself. 

"... And now for the strangest part of 
this romance. After beating for over thirty 
hours on the rocks, after the water had in- 
creased so rapidly that it was supposed that in 
a few hours the vessel would be a total wreck, 
the wind suddenly moderated, she was hauled 
off, the pumps gained on the leak, and the 
vessel was freed from water. ... A survey 
was held inside, one or two weak spots strength- 
ened, and the hull was pronounced all right! 
The engine was untouched, and neither the 
screw nor rudder, though thumped for so long 
a time, was in any way injured ! Indeed, so 
strong was this vessel, that . . . she was pro- 

[ 128 1 . 



The Persian Gulf 

nounced fit for sea and ready to sail for Bom- 
bay, . . . five and a half or six days after 
the accident! Before you see this, judging 
from the calms we have had since leaving 
Muscat, the Coringa W\\\ have proved her vital- 
ity by a safe arrival in Bombay." 

A description of Mr. Stearns's Arabian 
horses, written to his sister Eliza at the same 
time, may be quoted. "While I was at Bu- 
shire, the President, a sort of governor, re- 
ceived orders from Bombay to break up his 
establishment. . . . Now, Colonel P is fa- 
mous among horsemen. His horses are known 
and appreciated throughout the East. And 
he was obliged to sell, at once, his entire stud. 
I thought it an opportunity not to be lost, and 
made him an offer for four, which he finally 
accepted. . . . One of these is a great pet. 
His name is Pearl. . . . He is what they call 

a Nejd Arab, and Colonel P says is the 

highest caste horse he has ever seen. This 
horse is a perfect beauty, . . . small, plump, 
of magnificent proportions, with an eye as soft 
as a pretty girl's, and a nose that can smell a 
battle a hundred miles ! [This animal became 
Mr. Stearns's pet riding horse.] . . . Colonel 
[ 129 ] 



Married Life 

P left an order with the sheik, a friend of 

his, to buy him a fine horse, and [the next] 
one was selected as the best horse that was seen 
in Koweit (the port from which almost all 
Arab horses are shipped) during last year. 
He is a beautiful, large, and very powerful 
animal. . . . His name is Sheik. The next is a 
pure, high caste Arab, well made and very fast. 
. . . This horse is named Will-o'-the-Wisp. 
. . . My last horse is a large chestnut, with a 
small quantity of Persian blood in his veins. 
This horse I don't like. He is a fine-looking 
animal, but vicious. . . . His name is Teazer. 
. . . Besides this we have at Bombay Emmie's 
and my riding horses, Emmie's pair, my 
office horse, another horse for office named 
'Abe Linkin' on account of his legs, George 
Kittredge's riding horse, Willie's pony, and I 
am expecting two ponies from Burmah." 

[What follows is taken partly from the letter, 
partly from the journal.] 

"Among my luggage was a new American 
rifle, a very neat breech-loader, silver-mounted, 
etc. This attracted the eye of one of the Sul- 
tan's officers, who was greatly astonished, and 
must have reported it at once to the Imam, 

[ 130 ] 



The Persian Gulf 

for in the afternoon I had a respectful mes- 
sage from His Highness saying that he would 
like to see the rifle. I sent it up, but as he could 
not manage it, I sent it again (after its return), 
with Cymon. Cymon explained the secret of 
its workings to one of the Sultan's servants 
who, with a few cartridges, showed success- 
fully its operation. Next day it was sent for 
again. Cymon then began to whisper evil. 
*I think so Sahib suppose you give this rifle to 
the king. He be very much pleased and make 
you some handsome present.' Struck with the 
force of this reasoning, I sat down and wrote 
a note requesting His Highness to accept the 
rifle as a token of my distinguished considera- 
tion, etc., etc. I had hardly written the note 
when down came another request from the 
Imam. His brother had come and would I 
greatly oblige him by sending the rifle once 
more. This confirmed me in my resolution, and 
the note went forward with the rifle. An hour 
or two afterwards I had a most polite note 
of thanks and request that I would call in 
the afternoon. This I did and had a very 
pleasant interview with the Imam and his 
Grand Vizier. The Vizier spoke in Hindustani, 

[131 ] 



Married Life 

and in this language, through him, I spoke 
with the Imam, who speaks only Arabic. . . . 
I was hardly prepared, I confess, to find on 
my return to the British Presidency, — where I 
was staying, — a beautiful, highest caste, pure- 
blooded Arab horse, a present from His High- 
ness ! It would do your heart good to see this 
animal. He is only three and a half years old 
and is pronounced by the Arabs to be of great 
value. I suppose no living prince or ruler 
possesses such a beautiful stud of horses as 
the Imam; and the value of this gift can be 
better appreciated when I tell you that it was 
reared from his own stock and has a pedigree 
akin to some of the English nobility. More 
than all this, I was soon known as 'the man 
whom the King delighteth to honour."' 

The journal continues: "The Imam's kind- 
ness did not stop here. He had determined to 
send to Bombay one of his war vessels, and by 
this he not only gave me a free passage, 
but urged me to send my horses ... by 
the same conveyance. I thought it too much, 
however, and declined the offer. In fact, as 
you have already learned, ... I had made up 
my mind to come on by the Coringa, and only 
[ 132 ] 



The Persian Gulf 

late on the evening of the eleventh changed my 
mind. I would not take my horses, but ac- 
cepted the invitation for myself — so here I 
am. As I did not like to ask what preparations 
had been made for me, I concluded to act on 
Colonel Disbrowe's suggestion, which was: 

* Leave nothing to chance. Though very kind, 
the Arabs don't know how to provide for a 
European.' Acting upon his suggestion, . . . 
what does the Colonel do but at once undertake 
my fitting out. . . . 

"The old Colonel . . . has the funniest 
names for his servants you can imagine. One, 
the controller of his household, he calls . . . 

* Country Roller,' another is *Shitan,' another 
*Gudha,' another 'Jackey,' and Cymon was 
*Mr. Simmons.' He addresses them half in 
Hindustani and half English; being a good 
scholar and speaking the former perfectly, he 
keeps you in fits of laughter from morning till 
night. He says: 'Country Roller, toom aisa 
incorrigible hai, kya karegaf ... I find that 
Disbrowe was wise in advising me as he did. 
Although I am treated with the utmost kind- 
ness, and although I have become sincerely 
attached to the Arabs, and although I begin 

[ ^33 ] 



Married Life 

to think that they are a much abused race, 
nothing will make them clean and nice. . . . 
Yet, with all this, there is something exceed- 
ingly attractive about them. Their hearts are 
kind, their faces show it, and even those on 
board who have been born and bred in the 
desert, and who have done their share of loot- 
ing, say : * If you break bread with us, we are 
your friends forever. If the English and Amer- 
icans would come to our country more, we 
would be better friends.' I have lived some 
time in the East, and know the value of East- 
ern stories, but when an Arab speaks, there 
is a manHness and straightforwardness in his 
speech that carries conviction in spite of pre- 
judices. They are men, and so far as real ma- 
terial goes, as far removed from the Hindu as 
light from darkness. I speak, of course, of 
Hindus as a class. 

" Now, for a word about my commissariat. I 
am glad you won't know anything about it 
until it is all over. In the morning I have my 
tea, but can only depend upon the biscuits that 
the Colonel put in for a five days' voyage, 
and which my Arab friends so delight in that 
they will soon go. The water is simply beastly, 

[134] 



The Persian Gulf 

and as the tea is made of this and has to be 
drunk without milk, it might be improved ! 
My breakfast, which I take at ten a. m. (in 
order to dine at five, so that I may give up 
tiffin and make my beer hold out), consists of 
a cup of miserable coffee, a glass of beer, some 
native bread, and a bit of cold corned meat, 
or fried. This morning I had a luxury in the 
shape of a bit of liver, a goat having been killed 
yesterday, and Cymon having got the liver! 
For dinner I get a glass of beer and same as for 
breakfast. . . . How jolly to be clean once 
more! . . . 

"Next to me at night sleeps a madman. 
He has taken a great fancy to my room and 
visits it many times every day, overhauls my 
things and seems to be happy. I hope he is. 
At night he sings himself to sleep with that 
song that the coolie women sing when grind- 
ing; and when I wake, as I do every morning 
at half past four or five, ... I still hear the 
same song. . . , 

"December 19. ... I begin to doubt now 
whether we shall be in before Christmas ! . . . 
We have had a succession of calms ever since 
leaving Muscat, and although the distance be- 

[ 135] 



Married Life 

tween Muscat and Bombay is only eight hun- 
dred miles, and though it was a week this morn- 
ing since making the former place, we have 
not yet made half our distance. Yesterday's 
dulness was relieved by a little shark-fishing 
and a little bonita ditto. . . . About two p. m. 
a steamer's smoke was seen astern, and about 
six the steamer overhauled us. It was the 
Coring a. . . . Should we have a fair wind, the 
Coringa will even now hardly beat us, but . . . 
as I write, the flapping sails warn me that the 
possibilities only are ours, not the probabilities. 
Well, another week of short commons, . . . 
madmen and * critters' will make me appre- 
ciate better that home which you adorn, the 
place where I always find my heart when it 
wanders, though but for a moment. 

" I said I would write a word regarding our 
passengers, but what's the use .^ I am sure 
you don't appreciate my filling my letter with 
such dry details. I will, however, say that we 
have H. H. the Imam's Consul General Mo- 
hammed Bowker Khan, with his nephew, the 
madman, and three or four servants. We have 
several Arab horse-dealers, and very gentle- 
manly, dignified fellows they are too; we have, 

[ 136] 



The Persian Gulf 

further, a Sindlan Mur and Said, and a 
family of nine Jews, besides the numerous 
odds and ends from the steamer, who suc- 
ceeded in getting a passage from His High- 
ness. . . . One of our horse-dealers, an old 
fellow named Moosa, is a Wahabee, the largest 
and most warlike of the Arab tribes. They 
hold all the centre of Arabia and are reformers. 
They believe in Mohammed only as a prophet, 
they don't believe (such is my impression) in 
the divinity even of Mohammed, and follow 
Aabar the chief officer of Mohammed, and 
not Ali the son of Fatima and the prophet. 
I forgot to say that we carry a chaplain, . . . 
so to speak. We have a Mohammedan priest 
on board, who, five times a day, shouts from 
the poop: 'Akhar! Oh, Allah akhar, Oh, 
Allah! I '^illak loola lulla! Oh, ilia Mohammed 
zoor ZiloGla! A-a-akbarT then all hands go to 
prayers. . . . Their prayers are not, however, 
confined to certain periods. One fellow is even 
now at work near me. 

"I tell you what it is — I should like amaz- 
ingly to sit down with you and have something 
to eat. . . . Even old Mohammed Bowker 
says : ' Ton my word, I feel so sorry for you ; 

[^37] 



Married Life 

you don't have anything for comfort you. 
Ton my word.' Of course I laugh and say it 
is all right, but one can't perhaps be blamed for 
gently sighing for the flesh-pots of Egypt. . . . 

"My books are nearly finished. I'm on the 
last two hundred and fifty pages of the fourth 
volume of Macaulay. I have read all of the 
Marquis of Bragelonne and part of Bulfinch's 
Gods and Heroes, . . . 

"December 22. . . . It is time that I brought 
my long letter to a close, and I shall be su- 
premely happy and satisfied if I afford you as 
much pleasure in the perusal as I have experi- 
enced in the writing. . . . One of these days 
when I am under the sod, if so it should please 
God to arrange our little span of life here, and 
you are waiting to be taken, it may serve to 
beguile a few weary hours to let your thoughts 
wander back to the days of old when you and 
Will were young, and life stretched out in a 
then seemingly interminable path, every step 
of which was covered with flowers. . . . One 
of the things which I prize as above all price 
is to finish life's journey with you. . . . But 
we cannot, we must not, shirk the awful re- 
sponsibilities of life simply because we feel 

[ 138] 



The Persian Gulf 

unwilling to work alone. No, the dear little 
souls which God has committed to our charge 
demand a different course, the numberless 
broken hearts that we can soothe . . . tears 
we can dry ... all demand that our sorrows 
should never for an instant cause us to lose 
sight of * whose we are and what we are/" 



[ 139 ] 



VI 

Home Life in India 

On Mr. Stearns's arrival in Bombay, he 
found, besides his customary family, Mr. and 
Mrs. Alpheus H. Hardy of Boston, Mrs. 
Stearns's cousin. Miss Julia Kittredge, who 
was to spend three years with them, and a 
Mr. Reynolds. The large household always 
met together many times a day. To quote 
Mrs. Stearns : "We all go out for a little while 
every morning to plan and direct the gardener. 
. . . We play billiards after dinner, and end 
the evening with music." Mr. and Mrs. Hardy 
soon left for their own home near by. 

The baby, now named Harold, was called 
by his father a " really splendid fellow, always 
happy and always trying to make you laugh. 
Em thinks [he] not only looks like me, but will 
have many of my failings. He is frank, open 
and very demonstrative — always smashing 
things. ... I think he will be a very jolly fel- 
low, one that will be a great favourite with his 
[ 140 ] 



Home Life in India 

school-mates, but he will have to be watched. 
, . . Willie will have Frazar's conscience, 
Harry, I fear, mine — india-rubber. . . , 

"Willie grows like a weed. He is a good, 
kind, affectionate, strange, shy character, 
as handsome as Apollo, and as good as he is 
handsome, if I do say it. Everyone says * What 
a picture ! ' . . . One seldom meets with such 
a fine, loving character as his, or so perfect a 
person. . . . There is very little that is ori- 
ginal about him save his wonderful reserve. 
With such a garrulous papa I can't understand 
how I have become possessed of such a quiet 
boy — and yet the fire is there. 

"When Cymon is lazy, and I am away, and 
Emmie is busy, and there is no one with whom 
to play . . . Willie empties Emmie's bottle 
of cologne into the wash-basin, puts the soap 
to soaking, upsets my bottle of gum, and rubs 
it all over the top of my writing-table. As I 
wrote you before, I believe, like his papa, he 's 
a stunner for repenting. . . . 

"I wonder sometimes that he keeps at all 
good. A child can only go out for a short time 
about sunrise and again just before sunset. 
They meet other children occasionally only, 

[141] 



Married Life 

in the street. They rarely, or never, inter- 
change visits, and their time is almost always 
occupied by stupid natives, who are only too 
glad if they can offer inducement, without 
reference to its moral bearings, to keep the 
child still for a few moments. I expect Willie 
will make quite a good horseman, by and by. 
He has a ride both morning and night, and is 
only contented when the poor pony is * streak- 
ing it' at full gallop. You must not suppose 
that he rides alone. His ghora-wallah takes the 
reins, and Cymon runs by his side, holding on. 

"He talks only Hindustani. . . . He is be- 
ginning to learn his letters, but having in six 
months learned only A and O and forgotten 
/, I think the chances are that he will learn to 
read somewhere in the twentieth century.*' 

Mrs. Stearns wrote to Eliza Stearns, on the 
twelfth of March, 1864: "Our family is unusu- 
ally large, for besides my two cousins [two chil- 
dren and thirty servants], a Colonel and Mrs. 
Kirby are staying with us for seven weeks. 
They came out with us last year. He is the 
Deputy Adjutant-General of the Army. Mrs. 
Kirby is ill. . . . She plays better than any 
lady I have ever heard." 

[ 142 ] 



Home Life in India 

Mrs. Kirby was "delightful, warm-hearted, 
and known everywhere as the * Queen of 
Sheba.'" In a letter recently received from 
Mrs. Kirby, she calls Mrs. Stearns, "one of 
the most highly valued friends I have ever 
had — the most splendid character I have ever 
met with." 

At this time they began to speak of wishing 
to leave India on account of the health of Mrs. 
Stearns and the children. Everything was 
progressing so well that Mr. Stearns could 
entrust the management to other hands and 
himself afford to go away for good, and come 
home to less care and more privacy. He once 
exclaimed, "I don't know what it is to live 
alone with my wife and family. ... If I 
leave, it is my present intention to spend a 
year in Egypt, and upon the continent, though 
my movements will be shaped to some extent 
by my friend FaithfuU, who has been staying 
in India for the last year solely on my account. 
. . . Cymon says *I not get married. I want 
to go back America with you, bus.' I suppose 
we shall take him with us whenever we make 
up our minds to return." 

Mrs. Stearns goes on: "It is my nature to 

[143] 



Married Life 

find my happiness rather in the present than 
in my anticipations for the future. Still, talking 
of leaving India makes me feel a little unsettled, 
and I find myself laying aside curiosities and 
articles of Indian manufacture which I fancy 
may be useful and pretty in our American 
home." 

In May, 1864, they went as usual to Math- 
eran; but as Mrs. Stearns invited Colonel and 
Mrs. Kirby to stay with them there for two 
months longer, the family was hardly smaller 
than in Bombay. Of the excitement of this 
season Mr. Stearns said: "Last night, when 
coming down the hill, George and Julia ran 
upon a large bear. He was only three or four 
rods from them, made no trouble, and trotted 
leisurely up the side of the mountain. We used 
to have a great many bears and cheetas at the 
Hills, but of late years have had but few. The 
monkeys are, however, as thick as hops. . . . 
Have just returned from a shooting excursion. 
... By the by, did I tell you that we have 
killed three panthers at Matheran this season .? " 

They returned to Bombay when the rains 
set in. 

"The change from the quiet and rest of 
[ 144 ] 



Home Life in India 

Matheran to the care and excitement of Bom- 
bay was so great that for a few days it seemed 
to me more than I could possibly bear/' wrote 
Mrs. Stearns. 

On the thirtieth of July, Arthur French 
Stearns was born. For several months he was 
known as " Pete." Mrs. Stearns had a new 
ayah for the baby, "a perfect treasure of a wo- 
man," who took as good care of her as of the 
baby. Each of the other children had its own 
ayah, and Cymon had an oversight of them 
all, for " no one was so ready to do anything and 
everything for them, no one was so faithful." 

In the autumn, Mr. Stearns wrote an exuber- 
ant letter: "On the ninth of November [1864] 
I completed my thirtieth year of life and 
seventh in India. Where can you find a man 
so well as I have been and am .^ Hardly a sick 
hour since I came to this country, and such 
wonderful blessings withal; then Emmie, — 
in the words of her yesterday's letter, * I am 
very, ^'^ry well, never better in my life' ; and the 
children, in the words of our friends, — 
* Stearns, what wonderfully healthy and strong 
children yours are ! Not at all like Indian chil- 
dren. One can't imagine that they need a 

[ 145] 



Married Life 

change of climate/ . . . Willie is yelling and 
screaming with good health. God bless the 
boy! . . . Everything Harry does, dear little 
fellow, is comical; he eats, sleeps, talks, laughs 
and runs comically. Pete is a stunner, but not 
so amiable as his brothers. 

**We have been so wonderfully blessed as a 
family, that I sometimes fear that we shall 
one day have a tornado of reverses. God grant 
that we may be prepared for sorrows as well 
as joys." 

The progress of her children was now Mrs. 
Stearns's chief interest. So great was her de- 
sire for their proper bringing-up, that she used 
to pray that if her wealth was in any way a 
barrier to their highest development, it might 
be taken from her. 

She breakfasted in her room and devoted the 
early part of each day to them, giving so much 
time that it would seem as if she had none for 
herself. Nothing could be less true. On this 
point she said: "With all my care, I am try- 
ing to improve an opportunity which offers of 
studying music. We have an ItaHan opera 
here, and ... we have seized hold of Pro- 
fessor Usigliose, the leader of the orchestra, 

[ 146] 



Home Life in India 

and are learning all we can of him. He comes 
to us on Mondays and Thursdays for two hours, 
which Mrs. Faithfull, my cousin and I divide 
among ourselves. Mrs. Faithfull is taking 
lessons in Italian, my cousin on the piano, and 
I in singing. . . . We sing the Creation every 
evening, my cousin taking the piano, Mr. 
Faithfull the concertina, and the rest of us the 
parts. We have our old leader, Professor Sin- 
clair, two or three times a week to assist us, 
and mean now to invite a number of friends 
to join us for practice. Then there are so many 
people to be invited to dinner, so many visits 
to be paid, so many invitations to be accepted, 
that with the care of so large a family and the 
preparations for leaving India, my time will be 
fully occupied.'' 

As to their plans for coming home. Writing 
to his sister Eliza on the twenty-first of De- 
cember, Mr. Stearns said : "The last idea is to 
leave here by the last steamer in March and 
go to Paris ; stop there a month and then come 
home, leaving the three boys behind ; take a fly 
over to England and spend the winter in the 
south of Europe. . . . Will you take the boys 
for a year while we go prancing about Europe .^ 

[ 147] 



Married Life 

The expense of living is something enormous. 
And not only here but all over the country has 
there been, consequent upon the American 
v^ar, this tremendous rise. . . . Yesterday I 
got up at daylight, got ready and started for 
office without breakfast, having arranged to 
eat it in the Fort, and was at work at my desk 
hard until ten p. M. ... As a consequence 
I did not get dinner until eleven P. m.'' This 
overwork was not unusual. He had, in 1864, 
a summer vacation of two and one-half days. 

" January 22, 1865. 
"We are beginning to ship cotton overland, 
by rail from Suez to Alexandria. ... I must 
see the Pasha and arrange for transit duties 
through Egypt; if my plans are successful, 
I see no reason why we should not revolutionize 
the trade of the world ! Rather a big thing 
to take hold of, but like all big things, much 
easier and simpler than the little ones. . . . 
Success means nothing in itself beyond the 
achievement of our designs, and they may be 
evil or good. . . . Oh, that we might all be 
humble in prosperity, patient in adversity and 
always fear the Lord ! " 

[ 148] 



Home Life in India 

"Februaty 28, 1865. 

*^We have just completed our arrangement 
with the town of Bombay to construct horse- 
railways. . . . On Monday, the seventh, tele- 
graphic communication with England is com- 
plete. There is a panic in Liverpool. Cotton 
is down there and here. . . . 

"We are rapidly coming into possession of 
one of the finest steam fleets in the world. It 
is the monument which I leave in Bombay. 
[He mentions thirteen steamers of their fleet, 
that of the Bombay and Bengal Steam Navi- 
gation Company.] I told Lady Frere the 
other night (the Governor's lady by whom I 
sat at dinner at Government House) . . . that 
the next time she came to Bombay I would give 
her one of my steamers, put her into my horse- 
car, and take her straight to my hotel. She 
thought it a wonderfully good joke.'' 

Mr. Stearns's projects were "very interest- 
ing" to Sir Bartle and Lady Frere, who were 
the warm friends of Mr. and Mrs. Stearns. 
They frequently lunched at Government 
House, and Mrs. Stearns sometimes sang there. 

Her life in India has been characterized 

[ 149 ] 



Married Life 

in various ways by persons who knew her at 
this time. "Mrs. Stearns bore a charmed life 
in India." "It was like visiting royalty." 
"Mrs. Stearns lived like a princess." She was 
described as "distinctly the grande dame^^^ 
with "a place among the leaders of society," 
— "the Bhurra Mem Sahib (great lady), 
surrounded by a retinue of servants, never al- 
lowed to make the least exertion for herself." 
She was admired — greatly admired — not for 
the advantages she had had, however, but for 
what she was. She remained serenely uncon- 
scious of the impression she was making, and 
did not take the judgments of others as just 
estimates of herself. 

"To her house came the high and the low. 
Her receptions brought the Governor and 
staff. Her invitations included the missionary 
and native Christian, and in her were com- 
bined the accomplished hostess and helpful 
friend." 

Here is an account of one of their entertain- 
ments, written by Mrs. Stearns herself. 

"We are making preparations for a grand 
concert which we are to give on the ninth of 
March. There are one hundred and fifty 

[150] 



Home Life in India 

invites. . . . We are to have the assistance of 
a few instruments from the opera company, 
four vioHns, one viola and violoncello, and 
double bass, besides the piano. . . . With all 
this, I have to hurry on the preparations for 

our journey. . . . Mr. and Mrs. B are 

leaving for home. I must find time to do some- 
thing for them." And after the concert, on the 
thirteenth of March, 1865, she continued : "We 
are just recovering from the effects of our 
concert . . . and can only say, now that it is 
all over, that the success of the party was be- 
yond anything that we had anticipated. We 
had from one hundred and thirty to one 
hundred and forty present. . . . We had the 
screens, ... on each side of the drawing- 
room, taken down so as to make one immensely 
long room. . . . Thanks to Mrs. FaithfulFs 
taste, the decorations were beautiful. In both 
verandas American and English flags were 
hung, while branches of palm and pots of plants 
were so arranged as to make the place appear 
like a beautiful conservatory. In the long 
veranda at the back of the drawing-room, 
which was arranged with couches for the audi- 
ence, the palm branches were arranged in the 

[ 151] 



Married Life 

form of arches. . . . Using the three rooms as 
a drawing-room, we were obHged to have an 
immense tent for our supper. This was put 
at the back of the bungalow. . . . The sides 
of the tent were hung with flags. Flags were 
hung from the top of the veranda to the 
ground, while the little terraces . . . were 
filled with beautiful plants and branches of 
palm. ... In one [corner] a lovely little 
grotto. ... At one end of the tent we had a 
long table tastefully laid for the supper, while 
all over the tent were small tables with bou- 
quets of flowers, with couches and chairs about 
them. The steps leading to the tent were cov- 
ered with white cloth. I think I never saw 
anything more beautiful . . . than the tent. 
It was perfectly oriental, and so fascinating 
that, after the guests had left, we could not bear 
to leave anything so lovely . . . and so sat 
enjoying it for a long time. . . . We had 
bright red cloth laid from the drawing-room 
door to the carriages. This was especially in 
honour of Lady Frere's presence. The Governor 
was not able to come, but Lady Frere came, 
bringing with her her daughters and Lord John 
Hay, who was a guest at Government House. 

[152] 



Home Life in India 

We had the seats directly in front of the plat- 
form, in the middle room, arranged for the 
Government House party, and they were all 
highly delighted with the music as well as the 
appearance of the house. 

"We hear nothing but praise of our concert, 
and the general opinion seems to be that it was 
the best ever given in Bombay. . . . I hope to- 
morrow to begin packing up our things, prepar- 
atory to breaking up housekeeping. I am ex- 
pecting Mrs. Harding to make me a visit." 

The next letter is dated from Cairo, on the 
twenty-eighth of April, 1865, in which Mr. 
Stearns wrote of his changed plans. "I have 
had an interview with the Egyptian authorities 
and feel confident that I shall gain all I ask 
for. ... In order to complete everything, I 
must return to Bombay again. I can't come to 
America yet, and I can't go to the Holy Land 
at present. . . . Poor Lincoln ! I feel as though 
we had lost one of the family." (President 
Lincoln had been assassinated on the four- 
teenth of April.) 

The result of the interview to which Mr. 
Stearns referred, is one of the most brilliant 
of all his achievements. It was always his 

[ 153] 



Married Life 

peculiar gift to win the confidence of native 
rulers, as well as Europeans. No foreigner in 
Bombay had been so far trusted before by- 
natives. It was true of his interviews with the 
Imam of Muscat, it was still truer of his nego- 
tiations with the Pasha of Egypt. A clear idea 
of this undertaking is described in a few con- 
cise words by Professor William S. Tyler, in a 
Sketch of Mr. Stearns, given to the students 
of Amherst College shortly after his death. 

"Cotton could be transported from India by 
steamer through the Red Sea to Suez, then by 
rail to Alexandria, in one quarter of the time 
which was consumed by the voyage around the 
Cape of Good Hope, and arrived in much bet- 
ter condition from being less damaged at sea. 
. . . But the Pasha, who owns the railroad, 
as he does everything in Egypt, charged so 
high a price for transportation across his do- 
minions, that only now and then a choice lot 
was sent this way and the great bulk still went 
round by the old route. Merchants and diplo- 
matists had tried repeatedly to obtain more 
favourable terms, but all to no purpose, and the 
effort was given up in despair. Mr. Stearns 
at length decided to try his hand at negotiation. 

[154] 



Home Life in India 

He went to Cairo, approached the Pasha with 
much patience and prudence, but great tact." 

He found in the Minister of PubHc Works a 
man of " intelligence and energy who had been 
well educated in England . . . unexpectedly 
ready for the development of his native land." 
His master, Ismail Pasha, also received Mr. 
Stearns with courtesy. "He won the Viceroy 
chiefly by his manifest fairness and upright- 
ness, voluntarily proposed to raise the tariff on 
certain articles of more value and less bulk, 
while he lowered it on cotton. By showing 
that he looked out for the Pasha's interest as 
well as his own, he so established himself at 
length in the Khedive's favour that he was 
given carte blanche and told to arrange the 
tariff to suit himself." 

As soon as possible, they all hurried on to 
Paris. Here Mr. Stearns received the news of 
the universal panic in Bombay. He wrote: 
''We have long foreseen this storm, and have 
endeavoured to take in every possible rag of 
canvas and prepare for it. But . . . panics 
trip up the best men as well as the worst, and 
no human wisdom can guard every weak ap- 
proach. Life has been a romance thus far. 

[ 155 ] 



Married Life 

I know the skies have been too bright to make 
a thorough man of me. ... I believe I can ac- 
knowledge the Giver of these gifts as well as 
those others I have been so long accustomed to." 
Sorrow came; it came quickly, and to Mrs. 
Stearns with stunning force — but not then in 
just the manner that they had feared. Mr. 
Stearns's own record follows. 

"London, June i6, 1865. 

"Our plans are changed on account of the 
very sudden death of dear Mrs. Faithfull. 
You know how much our movements were 
based upon theirs and how unhinged we con- 
sequently are. 

" Our dear friends left us last Thursday in 
Paris, to come over to England to meet their 
little daughter. When within a little more 
than an hour from home, the train ran off a 
viaduct, toppled into a small stream — ten per- 
sons were killed, and thirty or forty wounded ; 
among the former poor, dear Mrs. Faithfull. 
Her death was instantaneous. . . . Poor Fred 
escaped as by a miracle. . . . Oh, how deso- 
late and crushed he is 1 ... I have rarely 
seen a more terrible picture of despair. . . . 

[156] 



Home Life in India 

On Saturday I got a telegram from him, and 
at once left Paris by the evening train, and 
travelled all night, arriving at Staplehurst, the 
scene of the disaster, at five o'clock Sunday 
morning. I was v^ith him all day. We removed 
the body on Monday, and on Wednesday v^e 
buried her. . . . Oh, what a checkered life! 
Its ups and downs are so amazing that we 
should stand aghast with astonishment did 
not frequency so blunt their strangeness. I feel 
more and more life's uncertainty and that in 
its midst we are in death. Here was Faithfull, 
after a ten years' struggle in which he had risen 
to eminence and wealth, returning to enjoy the 
fruits of his labour with the little one from 
whom they had parted full six years before, 
with everything bright, fresh and happy before 
them, and in an instant called into the deepest 
misery and woe. How strange are God's deal- 
ings, and His ways are past finding out — 
but His mercies are infinite and His love sure. 
Would that we could trust Him more!" 

Mrs. FaithfuU's death was an almost un- 
bearable grief to Mrs. Stearns. It had a deep 
religious significance in her life, showing 

[ 157 ] 



Married Life 

her the disappointments of earthly depend- 
ence. 

She wrote : " It seems to me that I could have 
lived so much better had she lived. Her influ- 
ence was always so elevating, whether it were 
in matters of taste, or my duty to my husband 
and children, or to society or to my God, she 
always led me up higher, and I felt her influ- 
ence ennobling. Oh, how inferior all the peo- 
ple I meet now seem to her ! Instead of mourn- 
ing too much, I know I ought rather to thank 
God that I was permitted so long to enjoy her 
friendship. But I long, long for her love, and 
there is a charm taken away from life which 
can never exist again. — Was it not her friend- 
ship in a great degree which made me love 
Indian life so much ^ . . . That she loved me 
as she did makes me proud. . . . There was 
no cant in her religious life. It was the over- 
flowing of a heart bursting with love to God 
and man. Oh, what would I not give to pos- 
sess such an influence for good upon others ! " 

There was in Mrs. Stearns's heart a double 
sorrow, for Mrs. Faithfull's death was closely 
followed by Mr. Stearns's return to India on 
the eighteenth of August, 1865. It is not hard 

[ 158 : 



Home Life in India 

to understand that separation seemed to them 
a "great calamity." He led, during his absence 
from her, two lives : the exterior, in his busi- 
ness, which gave him constant anxiety, and 
the interior, in his love for her, serene, steady. 
But this describes her life, too — for her love 
was no less deep than his, and his anxieties 
were hers as well. 



[159] 



VII 

Paris 

She was comfortably settled with her cousin 
Miss Kittredge, her three children and two 
Indian servants, in an apartment, the entre- 
sol^ at 220, rue de Rivoli, opposite the palace 
of the Tuileries, not then demolished. From 
their windows they could look into the beau- 
tiful gardens and watch Napoleon III and the 
graceful Eugenie drive by. Some of us still 
associate Mrs. Stearns, whose "commanding 
presence," "elegance," and "graceful walk" 
are mentioned in all kinds of letters from all 
kinds of people, with that much-loved Empress 
of the French. 

Hardly had Mr. Stearns left, when Presi- 
dent Stearns reached Paris to spend the win- 
ter, through February, with her. On his arrival 
in India, Mr. Stearns found Bombay in a ter- 
rible state, as a consequence of the cessation 
of hostilities in the United States. "Over half 
its prominent people are ruined or cleaned out," 
[ i6o] 



Paris 

he wrote. "Never in the history of financial 
ruin did so severe a tempest occur as that which 
swept over Bombay in April, May, June, July 
and August last. But [September 27] the 
Rubicon is passed triumphantly! I can now 
say that there is no danger of our having to 
give up. ... I find there is sunshine as well 
as storm in this world, if you keep up your 
pluck. . . . There is too much hope in my 
composition, too great a sense of the ridiculous, 
and too much buoyancy, ever to allow me to 
become a blue. . . . We have put through the 
Overland Freight business. . . . The pioneer 
and opener up [of this] deserves as great a name 
as M. Lesseps or any other man who has not 
done what he set out to do." He continues 
that his company now has steamers twice a 
month to Suez, that he is introducing gas into 
Bombay, the horse-railway is going well, that 
he is in treaty with the Government for the 
Tudor Ice House, etc. 

On the eleventh of October, 1865, their first 
daughter, Ethel, was born. This is Mr. 
Stearns's letter to his wife on that occasion. 

"A little while before tiffin I received a tele- 
gram from , dated October 16, and read- 

[ 161 ] 



Married Life 

ing, 'Mrs. Stearns presented you with a fine 
little daughter. Both doing well.' These golden 
words produced, as you may imagine, a vari- 
ety of emotions. No pen of mine can describe 
them. The tears came to my eyes and I rushed 
to my room and down on my knees. . . . 

" I am almost beside myself with joy. . . . 
I am a new man. I want to go out and tell 
everyone, even to the sweeper-woman, to re- 
joice with me. I always felt that to have a 
perfect family we must have a girl. The influ- 
ence is so good upon the boys. And now I have 
got my wish. Won't this give a zest to my 
Thanksgiving Day .?...! had a jolly dream 
night before last. I saw you again. . . . Un- 
fortunately, your room was so full of doors 
that we could not keep people out, and the 
more I tried to be alone with you, the more 
did these people come in the way. 

"I am a prisoner without you. ... I am 
utterly dependent upon you. I want advice, a 
word of love and encouragement. ... By na- 
ture I am stronger and more cheerful; then if 
you can keep up as stout and plucky a heart 
as I, don't you think you deserve the more 
credit.?" 

[ 162 ] 



Paris 

"Bombay, November i6, 1865. 

"You will be pleased to learn that Dr. David 
Livingstone is staying with me just now; he 
arrived from Suratyesterday,and will probably 
stay until he sails for Africa. I suppose it will 
interest you and Julia to know that I am fitting 
him out. I have bought for him some dozen 
cows, bullocks, and bull, and shall further 
supply him with muskets, candles, matches, 
preserved meats, tea, coffee, sugar, salt, pepper, 
curry-stuff, rice, flour, etc., etc. So when you 
next hear of the mighty deeds of the good 
doctor in Africa, you will remember what I 
did for the cause of science. . . . 

"I do not think you can understand what is 
the height and depth, the length and breadth, 
of my love for you. Every day I discover that 
I have new reason to love you more, and praise 
God that He saw fit to bestow upon me the 
inestimable boon of a wife who, take her all in 
all, is as near perfection as it is possible to find 
in this world. . . . Who knows you as well 
as I .f* ... If to cause perfect contentment in 
your husband is not the standard by which to 
judge whether you make a perfect wife, what 
is .? Give me a glass of cold water, a crust of 

[ 163] 



Married Life 

bread, and an old barn with your smile, rather 
than all the luxuries that wealth can buy, and 
we forced to live apart. When people turn up 
their noses at married life, I like to give them a 
dose. . . . 

"My horse came down with me and rolled 
over on me a bit, and I got a few scratches and 
bruises, which made me limp for a day. . . . 
Am dining out every evening." 

Of how Mrs. Stearns's days were filled we 
have her own account. 

" Fancy what there is to do ! First, a letter to 
you every week, two letters for America, one a 

week to , other letters occasionally, a 

French lesson every other day. For the lessons 
I am expected to learn two pages of notes, with 
about two pages of composition, and read as 
much French as possible. Every day one Eng- 
lish and one French newspaper to read ; a sing- 
ing lesson every other day, with the practising 
in between; the three books in which I write 
down what I notice of interest in the children; 
the care of the family, keeping the children in 
clothes, nursing Ethel, teaching Willie every 
morning; occasional calls upon friends; inter- 

[ 164] 



Paris 

ruptions by calls; scolded on every hand be- 
cause I do not go to the theatre, see more of 
Paris, take my children on excursions into the 
country, etc., obliged to take exercise occa- 
sionally for my health. . . . Such is my hfe, 
and no mortal with however great energy can 
do so much ; so there is always something neg- 
lected. ... I think you will find there is a 
great change in Willie. He has matured very 
much. So far I think I have been able to give 
him a pleasant impression of Sunday. To take 
away from a child all his pleasant recreations 
and give him nothing in place of them which is 
agreeable, and then tell him that the reason he 
does not love Sunday is because he has a wicked 
heart, is simply absurd ! . . . Cymon has left 
[December i]. In his place I have an excellent 
French cook, a real cordon bleu, as the French 
say. She is a very respectable widow, and gives 
us the most delicious things to eat. With 
Blanche, a French bonne, the cook, and the old 
ayah I am quite comfortable. . . . J yah takes 
the three boys and Blanche the baby." . . . 

She studied French with Madame d'Har- 
menon, always keeping up her correspondence 
and friendship with her. I quote, in transla- 

[ 165] 



Married Life 

tion, from a letter recently received from 
Madame d'Harmenon. "Oh, yes, I knew very 
well, loved very much, and greatly admired this 
dear Mrs. Stearns. During her stay in Paris, 
we were joined in closest friendship. I saw 
her every day, at first for her French lessons, 
and also to guide her, to help her to 'keep in 
a strange land an establishment which was 
difficult on account of the excessive care which 
she bestowed on her very young children. I 
saw her constantly. She studied much, had 
a large correspondence, especially during the 
absence of her husband. 

"System ruled her household; everything 
moved with great regularity and the greatest 
calm. She was an excellent hostess, both at 
dinners and receptions. Nothing had the ap- 
pearance of being disagreeable or hard for her. 
And what I admired in her and have never, 
perhaps, found elsewhere in the same degree, 
was her perfect evenness of disposition, her 
patience, her stoicism. . . . Immediately after 
her arrival in Paris, she was sorely tried by the 
deathof a very dear friend, Mrs. Faithfull. . . . 
I then found her admirable, which I recalled 
when other greater misfortunes came upon her. 
[ i66 ] 



Mary E, Stearns y Paris, 1866 



Paris 

... I learned how useful her life was to 
others, how admirable her last days ! But I al- 
ways had the consolation of saying to myself 
that she had many years of perfect happiness 
as wife and mother. ... I hope I do not 
arrive too late to add my tribute of love and 
admiration to a memory that is dear to me, as 
to so many others." 

Mrs. Stearns found that her apartment was 
really too small for her large family, so, on the 
fourth of December, she left the rue de Rivoli, 
and moved into an apartment of eight rooms 
at 27, avenue de Marigny, just off the Champs 
Elysees, where the boys could revel in the slight 
falls of snow, the first they had ever seen. Mrs. 
Stearns rather feared the effect of the bracing 
air on them, as they had always lived in a 
warm, relaxing climate. But they seemed only 
invigorated by it, and grew stronger every day. 

To quote Mr. Stearns again : "You ought to 
see me taking my early constitutional, morn- 
ings. ... I kiss all the babies in the street as 
a matter of course. ... I attack all the small 
children, and am generally disposed to father 
every ragamuffin I meet. Can't help it. They 

[ 167] 



Married Life 

have carried ofF my babies and left me alone^ 
and 1 have, as a consequence, to do the best I can 
v^ith other people's children. . . . God never 
intended to have me leave the care of these 
little ones all to you." 

** Bombay, December 9, 1865. 
"Called on the nev^ Commander-in-Chief, 
Sir Robert Napier, last night with Dr. Living- 
stone." 

"December 10. 
"Attended Scotch Church last night with Dn 
Livingstone. . . . You would like him very 
much; he is a dear, kind-hearted, genial man; 
no bigotry or narrowness about him at all, at 
the same time a thoroughly honest man. . . . 
He is very dry and witty, and makes no end of 
fun." 

He described various Hindu entertainments 
which Dr. Livingstone greatly enjoyed, and 
asked : " Have I told you about my bhurra khana 
I gave the other night in honour of Dr. Living- 
stone } " After a score of names, some Indian 
and some English, "Miguel gave us a splendid 

[ 168 1 



Paris 

dinner, and the whole thing passed off with 
eclat. ... He will sail for Africa on the first 
of January. Fancy! my dhohie wants to go 
with him. Is n't that an enterprising ^/?o^zV r^ " 

"January 6, 1866, 

"Dear, good, kind, large-hearted, noble Dr. 
Livingstone has gone. Seldom have I met a 
man for whom I have formed so strong an at- 
tachment. He is one of the great men of our 
century. God bless him ! '* 

To his father and sister. 

" January 20, 1866. 
"Oh, it's jolly living here without Emmie! 
Oh, it 's delightful ! I never knew what misery 
was before. Emmie used to say that she hoped 
I would never be so contented away from her 
as to bring myself to the belief that I could live 
without her. If she could see me, I fancy her 
most sanguine hopes would be more than real- 
ized. Why, I chafe under my enforced separa- 
tion more than ever a wild tiger chafed over his 
confinement. Live without her .? Why, life 
wouldn't be worth a day's purchase! . . . 

[ 169] 



Married Life 

Sometimes I ask myself what I should do were 
she to die. ... I sometimes think that I never 
could recover from the shock — as I know I 
should not want to. ... I miss her so now 
that at times life seems an intolerable burden. 
I would not stay . . . again without her for 
all the money in the Bank of England. . . . 
What a wonderfully happy life I have had of it, 
and what a prize I drew ! . . . There are few 
women living who are Emmie's superiors in all 
that goes toward making a perfect woman. 
She is wise, far-seeing, clear-headed ; a strong 
and vigorous intellect, modest and honest, 
true-hearted and loving, graceful, elegant, just 
proud enough to make people respect her 
thoroughly, dignified, self-reHant, earnest and 
equal to any and every occasion. . . . With 
every quality of strength in which I am weak, 
a strong and hearty support in all times of 
doubt, trial and difficulty. ... If you had 
seen as much of her as I have, you would say as 
I do, only adding, * Behold, the half has not 
beentold.' . . . I speak of what I know. Ihave 
seen her in sunshine and storm, and how she 
stood by and sustained me during this last 
year's struggle only two know, God and my- 
[ 170 ] 



Paris 

self. I tell you I have reason to be proud of her 
and love her, and I do. . . . My belief is that 
v^ith such a mother my boys can't help grow- 
ing up to be great and good men. 

[The following appreciation, in the words of 
Tennyson, was sent to her on her seventieth 
birthday, by one of her sons. 

*'No angel, but a dearer being, all dipt 

"In angel instincts, breathing Paradise, 

"Interpreter between the gods and men. Happy he 

"With such a mother! faith in womankind 

" Beats with his blood, and trust in all things high 

"Comes easy to him."} 

She likes sympathy and is as dependent 
upon my love as a child (though she won't own 
it). At the same time, when the occasion de- 
mands it, she can prove a source of the most 
wonderful comfort and help to me. . . . Noble, 
lovely, glorious wife! God spare her life!" 

She said : " I live on your expressions of love. 
But do not praise me to your friends. Although 
they may esteem me, they have not, naturally, 
such exalted notions of my worth as you." 

Mr. Stearns wrote to his father: — 

[ 171 ] 



Married Life 

*' Bombay, March 26, 1866. 

"Earth, air, fire and water combine to keep 
me abroad. ... I am oflF at seven a. m., and 
the other night I did not finish my dinner till 
one A. M. This is exceptional, but shows I 
have n't much time to throw away. [On an- 
other occasion: "Fourteen hours of steady 
writing have succeeded in giving me a head- 
ache."] Since I came out, I have made an 
enormous amount of money. The Bombay 
and Bengal Steamship Company, Limited, is 
flourishing. . . . Our special vocation is that 
of treasurer and manager. . . . We do all the 
business, all the money and property is con- 
trolled by us, in fact, we act as though the ves- 
sels were entirely ours. . . . 

"Thanks for your congratulations over the 
birth of Miss Ethel. God bless her ! You sug- 
gest that I ought to be grateful; grateful! The 
language has yet to be discovered that can pro- 
duce the word expressive of my feelings to our 
dear Father for his mercies. [And to his sister] 
As for Fannie's joke [she had suggested nam- 
ing the baby Ethelr^d^, for her hair resembled 
her father's], I am afraid that jokes in our fam- 
ily are he-red-itary. . . . She ought to strive 
[ 172 ] 



Paris 

to red-eem her character by red-ucing her jokes 
to a more palatable consistency, or red-ouble 
her efforts to red-uplicate some of her older 
and better ones." 

The " splurge " of Americans in Paris rather 
disgusted Mrs. Stearns. She saw little of them, 
but much of both French and English. Dr. 
Dupierris, her physician, was a great friend, 
the habitue of her house. She mentions Mr. 
Healey's taking her to the opera. She delighted 
in the musical atmosphere of Paris, and was 
studying singing in addition to her other duties, 
with the wife of the famous composer, Lefebure- 
Wely. She deeply enjoyed his magnificent play- 
ing on the organ of Saint Sulpice — then, per- 
haps, as now, noted for the best music in Paris. 

After President Stearns's return to America, 
Mr. Faithfull, now Mr. Chauntrell, came to 
make her a visit. He had changed his name be- 
cause his sister made speeches in behalf of the 
suffrage movement ! Liking to recall the musi- 
cal evenings in Bombay, he played, to Mrs. 
Stearns's accompaniment, quaint melodies on 
the concertina. The Kirbys, too, spent a week 
with her, later in the spring. 

[ 173] 



Married Life 

Mr. Stearns had bought, some time previ- 
ously, a beautiful place on the Hudson, near 
New York, called West Farms, which he had 
given to Mrs. Stearns. The estate must have 
been superb, including house, stables, green- 
houses and all. They spoke of its beauty and 
how happy their life there would be. 

After their "miraculous escape " from failure 
in 1865, the skies had been very bright. Mrs. 
Stearns, however, with her usual clear percep- 
tion, saw, early in 1866, dark clouds far ahead. 

"In order to have more ready money," she 
wrote him, "let my place be sold. [Yet] it 
makes me more anxious regarding our rapidly 
increasing little family. It takes away the feel- 
ing of security which for a time was a great 
comfort to me. . . . But perhaps, after all, I 
may learn to trust myself and my little ones 
more entirely in the hands of Him who alone 
can provide for their and my wants. . . . 
Neither I nor my children may ever live to 
need it, and if we do and cannot have it, I 
suppose the discipline of suffering and struggle 
will be what we require. . . . 

"/ cannot bear the grief of our separation. 
. . . Life is so short, I cannot bear to think 

[ 174 ] . 



Paris 

of how long we are apart. [I feel] submission 
with little hope or joy. ... I tremble lest we 
never meet again." 

Mr. Stearns wrote to her on the sixth of May, 
1866: "It seems to me as though I could re- 
move mountains for a single smile of satisfac- 
tion, a kiss, and * That's a dear, good Will' 
from you. [This year] has taught us how en- 
tirely dependent we are upon each other's love. 
A separation must never, never, never happen 
again. If ever I leave you again, it will be when 
you think it best, and not when I do. . . . 
Hurray, here 's the Krishna — in, and here 
a letter from you, God bless you. . . . Now 
I have read it, and a stunning, sweet, good, 
kind, loving, cheering, strengthening, heart- 
reviving, wifelike letter it is. . . . What a 
good cry we '11 have ! I mean to make a regular 
fool of myself when I see you ! 

"Many banks are failing. God is trying to 
teach me some new lesson. [I say to myself] 
'What will Emmie do [if I fail].? It will kill 
her. No, remember how nobly and splendidly 
she behaved last year. She is the same wife 
that sustained you then.' . . . Oh, it's very 
hard, though." 

[ 175 1 



Married Life 

To President Stearns, on the tenth of May : 
"Another black cloud has settled over Bom- 
bay. Cotton has gone down. Don't see how 
we are to escape a fearful crash. Banks are 
harder up than the merchants. I never felt 
more the need of my darling wife's counsel." 
Mrs. Stearns to Mr. Stearns: — 

''May 14, 1866. 
"Vague, undefined fears oppress me. There 
is a burden always as of some approaching 
calamity. Oh, I do trust that all we have 
suffered, and perhaps more, is not so soon to 
be gone through with [again]. If so, may God's 
will be done. ... I experience a constant 
[desire] to have my life in every little thing 
conform to God's will. . . . Has not the sun- 
shine which you have lately enjoyed been very 
sweet .? And you could never have had it had 
the struggle been given up. ... I can bear 
the dreadful separation when I think only of 
myself. But you, bearing it all alone, without 
me to help you bear the burden ! 
[Referring to Matheran, she said : ] 
Dear, sweet spot! I can never read your 
account of it without shedding tears, and I 

[176] 



Paris 

feel sure that I shall never love another spot 
so well. . . . 

"Don't try too hard to make your horse 
jump. Don't run risks. For my sake, do, do 
be careful. . . . 

" I find myself opening the morning paper 
with a trembling hand. ... If you fail now, 
no person who understands business will think 
less of you. . . . You are still young and will 
succeed in the future if you are overcome now. 
... If He sends prosperity, we must try to 
use it to His glory, and if adversity, we must 
accept it at His hand." 

Mr. Stearns to Mrs. Stearns: — 

" May 27, 1866. 
"I don't think I should worry a bit, con- 
sidering that the present financial crash is the 
most fearful one the world ever saw, at least 
on this side of the Atlantic. . . . Never before 
in mercantile history were there two panics 
in a twelvemonth. . . . The ramifications of 
all these things are fearful — and to a sensitive 
nature at times almost overwhelming. Did 
you not warn me that Bombay was on the eve 
of destruction even three years ago ^ . . . Oh, 

[ 177] 



Married Life 

If I had you for a partner in business, it 
would n't take me long to make a fortune ! . . . 
The reason I did not write you more yes- 
terday is because I got absorbed in looking at 
your picture, and so lost about half an hour. 
. . . How little you know the incentives to 
action and struggle I have when I think of you. 
Ah ! Emmie, without you the world would in- 
deed be a blank. . . . God forbid that either of 
us should ever feel the necessity, should one of us 
die, of marrying again. . . . No other woman 
could win from me the love which you have 
won. ... A man can remove mountains if he 
only has a woman that he loves." 

Mr. Stearns to President Stearns: — 

"June 9, 1866. 
"[It is now] a question of how long I can 
hold out. ... I thank God for past mercies, 
I praise Him that my trials are not unbearable 
or unendurable, though they madden me. I 
feel cast down but not destroyed. ... If He, 
as my Master, bids me fight in the ranks awhile, 
and cuts off my shoulder-straps, I don't care, 
so long as He will allow me still to be His ser- 
vant." 

[ 178] 



Paris 

"June 26. 
"God alone knows what I have passed 
through during the past six weeks, and God 
only knows what is now in store for me. . . . 
I don't care for loss to myself, it's the last 
thing I think of. But the thought of the ruin 
and desolation I must bring to others almost 
at times drives me mad." 

Mrs. Stearns wrote him on the tenth of July : 
" Prosperity was very delightful, and I love to 
feel that God meant us to serve Him with the 
influence which wealth gives. Perhaps it may 
be so yet. But if not, we must serve Him in 
other ways, and must show to the world that 
religion has power to sustain us under all cir- 
cumstances. ... If we wish to be happy, it 
must be in spite of circumstances. 

"Yesterday, as I was walking in the avenue, 
in front of me walked a man and his wife. The 
man was partially paralyzed, and, leaning on 
the arm of his wife, was making his way slowly 
along. I thought, * Suppose that instead of a 
husband, young, noble, full of life and energy, 
I had a husband like that! A time of bitter 
disappointment has come to me, but I would 
[ 179 ] 



Married Life 

not change places with those people.' Last 
year when affairs were in a similar precarious 
state, I had to endure the parting from you, 
and I knew not how long it might be. I lost 
a friend such as I shall never find again. My 
heart was almost broken at the thought of her 
loss. I was in miserable health, and in a 
strange land. Terrible as is your suffering, — 
and I know well what agony you endure, — 
are there not evils far more to be dreaded from 
which we have thus far been spared ?" 

West Farms having bqen sold on the eighth 
of July, 1866, she continued: "If you suffer 
as you suffer at the thought of the future while 
you still have the hope of gaining a livelihood 
for your family, what must a mother suffer who 
feels that she may be left at any moment 
with only her own hands to provide for those 
she loves ^ God grant it may seem right to lay 
aside a sum which shall relieve me from great 
anxiety regarding the future, something that 
shall give me assurance that my dear children 
shall not suffer from want. ... I feel that 
I do not yet know trial so long as my dear 
husband and children are spared to me. . . . 

[ 180] 



Paris 

If I cannot be happy so long as I have them, 
I have httle reason to anticipate happiness in 
this world. . . . Courage, dear Will! We 
married for love and we will be happy in that 
love, whatever may happen. 

"If I ever have to choose between leaving 
you or the children, I shall not hesitate what 
to do, though my heart may be breaking at the 
thought of separation from my loved ones. 
You know me well enough to know that my only 
happiness is in following you wherever duty 
may call you. And my suffering this year has 
been because I could not follow you. . . . 
I am not very well fitted for adversity, but I 
do not imagine that with all your energy we are 
always to be poor. Comfort yourself with the 
thought that you have secured for your family 
enough to keep them from want. ... In some 
respects I am, and always shall be, an extrava- 
gant wife. . . . I 'm not exactly fond of dress, 
but I have a love for real and good things. . . . 
Perhaps we shall be happier in adversity than 
in prosperity, — who can tell ^ Perhaps riches 
would ruin our souls and the souls of our chil- 
dren. . . . Life is very strange, and what we 
think at the time to be dreadful disappoint- 
[ i8i] 



Married Life 

merits often turn out to be great blessings. . . . 
God knows what is best for us, and we must 
trust in Him. I do hope that you will be filled 
with courage and hope, and that you will battle 
manfully and long before you give up, and that 
if give up you must, you will be sustained in 
a wonderful manner. May God bless you, 
my dear Will! The hardest trial of all is to 
feel that you must bear all alone." 

It was not a new thought to Mrs. Stearns 
that adversity acts "as a refining fire, purify- 
ing and elevating the nature of the sufferer." 
It was not an "experimental conviction" that 
a loss may be a gain. She had foreseen that 
trouble was near. Her heart had been sad- 
dened by what her mind knew was inevitable. 
But she was not surprised. No sorrow came 
upon her unprepared. 

Full of hope as Mr. Stearns had always been, 
now that misfortune seemed close upon them, 
he was amazed. He could not believe it. He 
had looked to his wife for sound advice in 
prosperous days, and had relied upon her clear 
judgment. Was encouragement to fail him 
now ? 

[ 182] 



Paris 

" Disappointments are a part of our discipline 
here," she said, "and they must come, if not 
in one way, certainly in another." She was 
filled with confidence that "there is one broad 
sky over all the world, and whether it be blue 
or cloudy, the same heaven beyond it. . . . 

" I feel the glow of health in every vein. . . . 
Hope can do no harm, so I allow myself to 
hope. . . . I wonder at my own hopefulness!" 
And so it came about that she was filled with 
that same bright optimism so characteristic of 
him. 



[183] 



VIII 

Mr. Stearns's Failure 

"The firm of Stearns, Hobart and Company 
was one of the last to go down, but it could not 
stand against the universal disaster." On the 
fifteenth of July, 1866, the following telegram 
was received by Mrs. Stearns: ** George ar- 
rived. Have stopped. Don't be downhearted. 
Friends very kind. All well." 

Three days later Mr. Stearns sent this letter 
to President Stearns. " I cannot describe to 
you the agony through which I passed before 
acknowledging to myself and the world that 
I must suspend. . . . You know from former 
letters how anxious I have been, and from your 
experience of last year, can judge that I did 
not surrender the ship until there was no help 
for it. ... I don't see the use of being down- 
hearted; better men than I have met with 
worse troubles and have lived, and I hope to 
bless God for them. . . . Creditors are kind 
and considerate. Shareholders in Steamship 

[ 184] 



Mr. Stearns's Failure 

Company seem determined that we shall keep 
this business. . . . God willing, the sun will 
shine again, for it is only an eclipse. . . . Not- 
withstanding my determination to look upon 
all this philosophically, . . . years must pass 
before I recover entirely from it. ... I think 
He intends, after purifying me, to try me again. 
I don't believe that the influence of myself and 
family for Christ is to be wiped out yet." 

To Eliza Stearns: — 

" July 21. 

"It remains for me to buckle on the har- 
ness and fight again. It is not in the blood to 
give up while there is a leg to stand on, and 
when my last leg goes, you may sing 

*Poor brother Will,' needs must I wail 
As some in doleful dumps, 
For *when his legs were smitten ofF 
He fought upon his stumps.' 

"Our Heavenly Father does not always 
choose in this life to give us His reasons for deal- 
ing with us as He does, but sometimes He lets 
in just light enough to see the glory beyond the 
cloud. . . . People will all be saying, * There is 
poor Will Stearns and his flock. Why is it that 
poor people all have such large families ? ' " 

[185] 



Married Life 

To President Stearns : — 

"August I. 

"Thank God that my wife has been my sun 
in prosperity, and is still the same bright sun 
in adversity, only the rays seem brighter and 
warmer, more comforting and genial, because 
of the great darkness which would else en- 
velop me. . . . Of course I would like to 
know the reasons for all these troubles, but I 
am content not to know them if He says, 
*Wait/ ... I cannot help constantly blessing 
God that we both feel alike in this dark hour, 
that neither of us ... is cast down. It argues 
well for the future." 

To Mrs. Stearns : " Your glorious letters 
. . . have done me a world of good. They are 
so plucky, so full of hope, you keep up such a 
stout heart, are so well, care so little for present 
failure in consideration of numberless bless- 
ings left. George said: 'That's just like Em- 
mie. You will find that in adversity she will 
come out wonderfully strong.' ... I know 
that I am but an atom, but I know also that 
He who does not permit a sparrow to fall with- 
out His notice, sends good and evil alike upon 
[ i86] 



Mr. Stearns's Failure 

us for our good. . . . You are a splendid lot 
to fight for, and though in this late battle I 
have got rather the worst of it, it will all 
come right in the end. . . . Whatever happens 
to me, try to train them up to remember me 
with affection." 

" August 5. 

"To-morrow we are to have our meeting — 
creditors — and I trust they will do something 
satisfactory. [Nearly] everyone is very kind, 
and the general hope is that we shall soon be 
under way again. From the enclosed article 
you will see that after all we have some cause 
for gratitude." 

The article referred to was called " The 
Overland Freight Route," printed in the 
Englishman^ "the best paper in the East," 
on the twenty-seventh of July, 1866. On 
account of the clear way in which it expresses 
the attitude of Bombay, and because of what 
it meant to Mr. and Mrs. Stearns, I insert a 
few extracts. 

"Stearns, Hobart and Company were the 
prime agents of opening up the Overland 

[ 187] 



Married Life 

Freight Route from England to India, via 
Egypt and the Red Sea. . . . The terrible 
disasters of the Bombay market, particularly 
in cotton, have, as one mutilated telegram of 
yesterday declared, compelled Stearns, Hobart 
and Company to suspend payment. Mean- 
time we are reaping the fruit of their successful 
exertions to open up a new and shorter route 
for that immense commerce of the Eastern 
world, which still mainly goes around the Cape. 
This fruit comes in the transmission of entire 
English cargoes to India by the way of Suez, 
aided by the new line of freight and passenger 
steamers, the Bhima, Nada, Gunga, Tamuna, 
Krishna, and others. . . . We particularly 
regret to chronicle the stoppage of so enter- 
prising a house at this time (well-known to 
have been for years the leading American 
house in Bombay), if it were only in considera- 
tion of their connection with that successful 
and growing rival of the P. & O. monopoly, 
the Bombay and Bengal Steamship Company. 
... If the Overland Freight Route should 
prove to be as practicable as it at present ap- 
pears, and as the five weeks' transit from Liver- 
pool to Bombay of the full cargo of an English 
[ i88] 



Mr. Stearns's Failure 

merchantman declares it to be, then we have 
as important a change in the movement of 
English trade, and as great a revolution in 
commerce, as has occurred during the century; 
or, at least, since the day that brought steam 
navigation to India. . . . No one can doubt 
that the nev7 transit through Egypt is the fruit 
of considerable negotiation with the Viceroy 
and his Minister of Public Works, Nubar 
Pasha. ... It is beyond controversy that the 
Viceroy opened negotiations with the Amer- 
ican house just named, and consented to give 
pledges and lay plans which are now being 
carried out. These negotiations occupied some 
eight months, and extended from March to 
October, 1865. . . . 

"It was at once perceived that if it were to 
be a success, a new and double line of railway 
would be needed. ... A double track is now 
being laid from Alexandria to Suez. ... It 
is to be completed within five years from No- 
vember, 1865. Its estimated cost is from one 
and a half to two millions sterling, while a 
much longer time and a rough estimate of one 
hundred millions sterling have been set forth 
as the final requirement (if it ever be finished). 

[ 189] 



Married Life 

of the great French Ship canal of M. Lesseps 
and his friends. . . . Let the new arrange- 
ments be once finished and in full working 
trim, . . . and in five years more the Cape 
route, for all valuable merchandise, or, say 
for all India goods, will be a thing of the past. 
Only the best sailing ships can reckon on a 
four months' voyage from Calcutta to Liver- 
pool round the Cape. Let it be made in one 
month, via Egypt . . . and what merchant 
will not choose to turn over his money four 
times a year rather than once .? . . . 

"Unlike the French steamers and their 
dependence on the coal depots of the P. & O. 
Company, the B. & B. Steamship Company 
have coal supplies entirely their own. They 
have also obtained land at Mazagon, just above 
the Fort of Bombay, and are in full enjoy- 
ment of all the advantages of her noble harbour. 
Very extensive sheds and godowns have been, 
and are being, erected there, and all promises 
success. We hope that Stearns, Hobart and 
Company's suspension may soon be followed 
by a resumption of business. Come what may, 
we are certain that they have deserved well of 
the public for the very prominent part they 

[ 190 ] 



Mr. Stearns's Failure 

have taken in the opening up of the Overland 
Freight Route to the commerce of England, 
India, Europe and the world." 

And from the Bombay Gazette, August 14, 
1866: "There never v^as a more legitimate 
enterprise developed on this side of India, and 
never one more faithfully and zealously worked 
in the best interests of shareholders. It is to Mr. 
Stearns, the enterprising merchant who estab- 
lished the company, that the public are indebted 
for an accomplished Overland Freight Route. 
Whether the Bombay and Bengal Steamship 
Company will expand into a great and wealthy 
company carrying all our overland freight, or 
whether it will sink into insignificance, . . . the 
Overland Freight Route has been established. . . 

"For the service done to commerce, and 
for the service done to the public in success- 
fully establishing an overland freight route, 
Mr. Stearns deserves the thanks of all; and 
we trust that his valuable services will be se- 
cured for the welfare of a company whose 
interests he has so much at heart." 

To resume Mr. Stearns's letter: "Is it not 
a kind article, and so correct too ^ It will 

[191] 



Married Life 

do us immense service, for it is one of those 
editorials which are sure to be copied all over 
the v^orld. I knew that we had done a wonder- 
ful thing in this overland business, and I knew 
that we deserved great praise for it. . . . Well, 
it's a great comfort to have such a tribute as 
this at such a time, and I thank God for it. 
It will do much to take away the sting of dis- 
grace attendant upon our stoppage, and in 
America it will act strongly in our favour. 
Americans, of all people in the world, are very 
proud of the deeds of their countrymen. . . . 
It is bitter to have this praise at so late a day, 
and yet the present occasion drew it forth, 
and after all it may be but the beginning of 
brighter and happier, because better, days. 
I confess to a feeling of pride and satisfaction 
when reading this article, that I have not felt 
for a long time. I trust that it does not exalt 
and lift me up in my own estimation; but as 
a woman cannot be insensible to praises of her 
charms when she knows she is beautiful, so a 
man, when success attends the dearest object 
of his ambition, and a world awards him his 
full meed of recognition of what he has done, 
is not human if he does not like it, and feel 
[ 192 ] 



Mr. Stearns's Failure 

proud of it. A Christian will try to make it 
redound to the glory of God and the elevation 
of his fellow men — a worldling will be often- 
times crushed by it. 

"Now I am happy because I have done 
something for you to be proud of; you always 
told me that you had confidence in my ability, 
and many and many a time when I was discour- 
aged and broken down, almost, this thought 
has cheered and strengthened me. If I have 
felt weak, I have said, * Emmie does not wor- 
ship blindly; while she sees, and none better, 
my faults, she tells me of them in order that 
I may be a better man, and approach more 
nearly her ideal of perfection. So when she 
praises, I know she is honest, and because she 
is so wise and clear-headed, there must be 
enough in what she says to encourage me to 
greater exertions, greater self-reliance — under 
God — and a better faith in the talents which 
He has given me.' I can't help saying continu- 
ally to myself, 'How pleased Emmie will be; 
how glad and gratified.' I know more than I 
even, because while you in your heart believed 
it all before, I think you love me too well not 
to feel satisfaction at the world's recognition of 

[ 193 ] 



Married Life 

what you yourself were so long and well aware 
of. I know when people praise and speak well 
of you, my heart always thumps a gratified 
response. And because we love each other so 
warmly, we are the more anxious to have the 
world endorse our judgment. 

"I said just now that human nature could 
not be insensible to such words as those in the 
article I refer to; but after all, I should not 
care a bit, did I not feel that you would be so 
greatly gratified. I live for you, I would die 
for you, and every word of approval from you 
is choicer than gold. . . . Did I tell you that 
poor Ramchunder Balcrishna died last Thurs- 
day .? He was ill for four or five days only with 
fever. Poor fellow, he has left his wife . . . 
with seven children, and not a penny for their 
support. ... I wish I was in a position to 
help them. How mysterious are the ways of 
Providence ! " 

"August 20. 

"What with the panic in England, China 
and India, the famine in Bengal, and the wars 
and rumours of wars all over the world [we 
are in a fearful financial state].'' 
[ 194 ] 



Mr. Stearns's Failure 

"August 24. 
"I have just received yours of the third 
August. . . . You have got the bad new^s, and 
it has not killed you or made you sick or ner- 
vous; thank God for all that. I am really sur- 
prised to see you stand up so under it all; not 
but that I knev^ you would, too; but the con- 
firmation of my expectations is extremely sat- 
isfactory, and then you are indulging in hopes 
for the future. You develop in distress so 
rapidly that I, v^ith my sorrows, can't keep pace 
with you and your hopes. This is as it should 
be. You are so good, so noble, such a true- 
hearted wife." 

How rarely comforting that appreciation of 
this peculiar courage of Mrs. Stearns should 
have come first from him ! 

During the last week or two of August, 
Mrs. Stearns moved into another apartment, 
92, Boulevard Malesherbes, opposite the Pare 
Monceau. "The worst is passed," she wrote 
to America. "You will see what a reputation 
Will has gained in the East, and will under- 
stand how easy it will be for him to regain his 
position in connection with his Eastern busi- 

[ 195] 



Married Life 

ness. If he could keep the Steamship Com- 
pany it would be an immense business in it- 
self. ... It is, humanly speaking, the work 
of his hands. . . . Since Will's stoppage I 
have become so pained at the thought that, 
if he gives up all now, others are to enjoy all 
the fruits of his labours, that, hard as it is, I 
think I could gladly even part from my chil- 
dren, and go back with Will to India, that he 
might retrieve somewhat his position before 
coming to America. When once I can see that 
it is for Weill's interest to come to America, 
I shall be happy to come, but that he should 
come home disappointed and discouraged when 
he might easily retrieve his position elsewhere, 
I cannot bear. . . . Mr. Chauntrell and his 
daughter are still with me.'' 

This letter gives a suggestion of the new 
anxieties which beset Mrs. Stearns. Should 
they send the three boys to America, and go 
back to India themselves with the baby ? 
Should they all stay in England, managing the 
Bombay business from London ^ Should they 
all come to America, as they had intended 
when they left Bombay nearly a year and a 
half before, leave all the loose threads at liberty 

[ 196] 



Mr. Stearns's Failure 

to entangle themselves inextricably, and begin 
again at the bottom of the ladder in America ? 
One thing was settled. The boys could not 
return to India. European children cannot 
endure the climate. If their parents stayed in 
Europe, or went to America, the boys could stay 
with them. If they, on the contrary, returned 
to India, the boys would be sent to America. 

On the twelfth of October, she wrote : "Will 
came in upon us unexpectedly. ... He has 
retained the business of the Steamship Com- 
pany. All the principal firms in Bombay insisted 
that he should, though so lucrative is it that one 
is really surprised at such an evidence of un- 
selfishness." 

Mr. Stearns wrote his father from London 
on the same day : " I intended to come by the 
Bhima August 20 from Bombay — was nearly 
packed, etc. when by the advice of our trustees, 
I concluded to wait over another boat; the 
Bhima went down in the Red Sea with nearly 
all on board. . . . Only think, once I have 
gone nearly the length of the Atlantic north 
and south, once across the Indian Ocean, twice 
the Bay of Bengal, twice the Persian Gulf, once 
up the Indian Ocean, nine times the Arabian 
[ 197 ] 



Married Life 

Sea, seven times the Red Sea, seven times the 
Mediterranean, over a dozen times the Chan- 
nel, seven times the Atlantic, and yet here I 
am safe and sound and hearty, to praise God 
for my wife, three boys and girl, my father, 
mother, brothers, sisters, loss of property and 
everything else that He sees fit to send me/' 

This is his impression of his little family 
after his long absence: "Willie is the same 
good, tender-hearted, truthful, cautious boy 
. . . who will win his way in the world not 
... so much by dash as care. . . . Hal's 
power of distinguishing truth and poetry is 
as yet limited. ... He is full of dash, goes 
ahead without looking one inch before him, 
and will break both legs and arms, dislocate 
his shoulders . . . and have at least fifty nar- 
row escapes before he is twenty-one. Arthur 
is a trump. . . . He is as brave as a little lion, 
has ten times the pluck of Willie and Harold 
together. . . . 

" Ethel, they say, is the image of her papa. 
. . . She has Frazar's temper, and is quick as 
a flash. Emmie has changed wonderfully. She 
has grown very stout . . . and is as queenly 
and dignified as one could wish." 

[198] 



Mr. Stearns's Failure 

That does not sound much cast down ! And 
he concluded: "Business prospects are good. 
I see no reason to worry over the future." 

They both turned toward India instinctively. 
In Bombay Mr. Stearns was well known and 
had hosts of friends; but then — they would 
be obliged to leave the boys, who would have 
forgotten their parents before they could see 
them again. After more than a month of in- 
decision, they all sailed for America on the 
twenty-third of November, 1866; and on the 
seventh of January, 1867, Mr. and Mrs. Stearns, 
with Ethel, were already on their way back to 
England. 

The three boys, with their English nurse, 
had been left in Amherst, with President and 
Mrs. Stearns, his second wife, in the imme- 
diate care of Miss Eliza Stearns. The rooms 
on the third floor were fitted up for them, even 
their meals being served there. Other than this 
restriction. Miss Eliza was "free to do with 
them as she thought best," Mrs. Stearns, how- 
ever, constantly advising that they must not go 
out to meals, for she did not " like the idea of 
children being at table with older people," and 
that " they must learn to go to sleep in the dark " ; 

[ 199 ] 



Married Life 

and indicating the number of cold baths they 
should receive. 

They had not realized how "terrible would 
be the parting with the dear boys." Mrs. 
Stearns was quite prostrated by it. 

Mr. Stearns wrote his sister Eliza from 
Liverpool, on the twenty-sixth of January, 
1867: "Would n't I like to see those boys to- 
day ^ I wonder if they are happy ? Did they 
feel sorry when we left ^ I suppose not. Will 
they forget us .? Doubtless. ... It is part of 
the discipline of life that we should contend. 
Were all our fondest . . . wishes realized in 
this world, we should make but a sorry ap- 
pearance in the next." 

" February 8. 

"Emmie eagerly seized your letter and 
opened it. When her eye fell upon the little 
note from Willie sent to mama, it was too much. 
She burst into tears, and cried like a child for 
a long time. It is not often that Emmie gives 
way to her feelings, but a mother's heart is 
tender, and, I may add, sometimes a father's 
too. . . . Teach all the boys to be honest, no 
matter how difficult it may seem. Abhor lying, 
deception, prevarication, and sHpperiness. . . . 
[ 200 ] 



Mr. Stearns's Failure 

God bless the lads ! How our hearts beat tu- 
multuous marches whenever we think of them." 

"February 27. 

" Business progresses slowly but favourably. 
The steamers of our company are too small. 
The overland business is growing so fast, be- 
coming so gigantic, that there is no such word 
as fail about it. . . . Here is my programme 
— first to pay off all my debts ; then to put by 
enough to live comfortably upon, and keep my 
family from want, should I be taken suddenly 
away." 

Mr. and Mrs. Stearns spent two months in 
England, sometimes in London, sometimes in 
Liverpool, sometimes visiting friends in Har- 
row and Hedley. Both the Kirbys and Mr. 
Chauntrell were in London. Mrs. Stearns 
described a visit she paid with Mrs. Kirby to 
the House of Commons, when they looked 
through the grating and heard Disraeh speak. 
Mr. Stearns was taking singing lessons, and in 
quiet interims recited French to his wife, which 
he continued to do on the steamer till they 
reached India. 

He wrote: "Emmie has been hard at work 
[ 201 ] 



Married Life 

with her Bible of late, and oftentimes spends 
hours over it; she says she never before began 
to dream even of the riches it contains. I can 
see that she is growing and ripening so percep- 
tibly that I sometimes find myself wondering 
if it is for the reaping. God grant that if it 
please Him, we may all have many happy 
years together, . . . but if He says it is better 
not so, then may we all meet in that other coun- 
try where there are no more separations. . . . 
The fruit of long years of toil has been taken 
from us, and we have been called to endure 
painful separations, but the loved circle is un- 
broken." 

The middle of April Mrs. Stearns, with Ethel, 
left for Paris, where she went " shopping from 
morning till night," as well as visiting all the 
galleries and the great Exposition. She was 
distressed by the preparations already making 
in Paris for war. 



[ 202 ] 



IX 

Last Year in India 

On the third of May, 1867, they sailed for 
India, reaching Bombay on the twenty-fifth, 
after a pleasant passage. They stayed at first 
with Mr. Christian, a very cultivated man 
"possessed of most amiable qualities," who 
"has the merit of being very fond of Will." 
Mrs. Stearns continued: "I need not tell you 
that these first weeks in Bombay are in many 
respects very trying, there is so much to re- 
mind me of the dear children and of Mrs. 
FaithfuU, whose friendship was perhaps the 
secret of my love for India. At present I am 
very much troubled with weak eyes, so that I 
am sometimes unable to read or write at all, 
and sit looking at the blank walls. ... I trust 
the darlings are well, and may God in His in- 
finite mercy spare them and us to meet again." 
This "trouble with her eyes" was Mrs. 
Stearns's new affliction. It became more and 
more serious, until it was at last the cause of 
[ 203 ] 



Married Life 

their leaving India. As no calamity could 
come upon her which she was unfitted to meet, 
she found her compensation now in her music, 
and could not express her gratitude for the 
recent, thorough training she had received. 

Though outwardly their life was just as bril- 
liant as ever, the real glamour of the Orient 
was gone. 

Mr. Stearns wrote: "Business is progress- 
ing most stunningly. Our overland trade par- 
ticularly is growing at a tremendous rate. . . . 
The office does not wear the appearance of in- 
solvency, with its fifteen or twenty clerks, half 
a dozen messengers, and so forth. ... I am 
working at high pressure as usual. ... I 
am in perfect condition for anything. I do not 
think that India has affected my general health 
in any way." 

Less than a month after their arrival, Mrs. 
Stearns and Ethel went to Poona, hoping that 
the cooler climate might benefit Mrs. Stearns's 
eyes. She spent the summer, and until the 
middle of October, there. Writing to Miss 
Eliza Stearns on the fifth of September, she 
said: "For nearly three months I have been 
unable to read or write. I allow myself to read 
[ 204 ] 



Last Year in India 

a chapter in the Bible, and am able to keep 
up my singing, as this latter requires but little 
use of my eyes. I need not tell you what a se- 
rious trial this inability to use my eyes has been 
in this country. I had no other resources but 
those which demanded my sight, no cares and 
employments such as I could easily have found 
at home, which should employ my time and 
thoughts without fatiguing the weak member. 
I could not go out during the day on account 
of the great glare, and so I have been for days 
shut up in a dark room with no one to speak 
to. ... I have great reason to be thankful 
that I took singing lessons in Paris, as without 
the interest I took in my practising I should 
have been almost wholly without resource. 
Latterly I have hit upon another useful way of 
spending my time. I am committing to memory 
hymns and La Fontaine's fables, so if I become 
blind, I shall be able to repeat them to you from 
morning till night. . . . Congestion at the back 
of the eyes was caused by the journey down the 
Red Sea. , . . Nothing is the matter with my 
sight." 

Such loneliness was broken in upon during 
September by Mr. Stearns's vacation. He 
[ 205 ] 



Married Life 

wrote from Poona, on the fifth of September, 
1867: "Everybody is here who can possibly 
get away from Bombay. It is the headquar- 
ters of the army, and Sir Robert Napier, the 
Commander-in-Chief, lives next door to us. 
The military world is greatly excited prepar- 
ing for an expedition to Abyssinia. We have 
just been looking at some sketches of the coun- 
try which the Governor has sent us. . . . 
Colonel Kirby will go as Adjutant-General; 
Mrs. Kirby will stay with us." 

" Bombay, September 29. 
" Ethel is strong, hearty, comely and fat. . . . 
I 'm afraid papa is a little too indulgent. . . . 
Parents can never appreciate the thorough and 
complete misery of Indian life till they have 
been separated from their children. Emmie 
mourns over it and refuses to be comforted. 
She is passionately fond of her boys." 

"October 12. 

"Many thanks for the pictures. . . . I must 

say you all look grave enough to be in your last 

resting-place. Mrs. Dimick looks as though 

she were arranging for the biggest funeral of 

[ 206 ] 



Last Year in India 

the year, and looks as though he was 

going to drive the hearse. Sarah looks like 
head corpse, and the rest of you like hired 
mourners. . . . [As to Willie,] I never saw 
such a child — he always looks so clean and 
neat, and in the eternal fitness of things, ever 
seems to be the right boy in the right place. 
. . . What a Httle gentleman he is ! " 

" October 29. 

" Another of our steamers has been lost. 
The Yamuna in the Red Sea. [He mentions 
nine vessels in which he was interested having 
been wrecked since he began business, and 
alludes to "some others.''] Business still won- 
derfully prospers, . . . and we have more 
cotton offering than we can carry home, and 
more cargo outward than we can possibly 
manage to bring.'' 

Mrs. Stearns, meanwhile, had gone with 
Ethel to Matheran, for October and Novem- 
ber. She wrote to Eliza from there on Novem- 
ber 12: "The doctors feared the effect on 
my eyes, and so I had to come here. ... I am 
trying a little plain knitting, but this occupa- 
tion is so wholly unknown in this country, that 
[ 207 ] 



Married Life 

I cannot get the wool except in skeins. . . . 
Mr. Chauntrell is reading aloud * Lectures on 
the Science of Language' by Max Miiller. 
. . . Mr. Chauntrell and Mrs. Kirby are to 
be with us in Bombay, [and we] are going to 
take a house." 

" Bombay, December 28. 

" I can't tell you how delightful it is to me to 
have constant occupation after weary months 
of enforced idleness. I trust I may never again 
be condemned to do nothing. I garden a great 
deal, look after my house myself, give out my 
own stores and keep all the accounts of our 
numerous household, which is no small task 
in India. . . . Colonel Kirby is Adjutant-Gen- 
eral here instead of in Abyssinia, [so we are] 
aunited and happy household. . . . I sing more 
than ever." 

Mr. Stearns wrote to his father from Bom- 
bay, on the twenty-third of February, 1868, 
"Emmie's eyes are bad, and cause us much 
anxiety and worry. Don't be surprised if you 
hear that we are leaving India on this account. 
. . . You know when I came out here, I came 
to re-establish my business, and that when that 
was under way it was my intention to return 

[208] 



Last Year in India 

home. I have been blessed beyond my most 
sanguine expectations, and were it not that 
I had made up my mind to wipe out that part 
of the old score, which as an honest man I 
think I ought, I could coi;ne home to-day a rich 
man. . . . We have now the reputation of 
being a 'very strong firm.' . . . It is considered 
here in Bombay that my good fortune is follow- 
ing me as never before. . . . Emmie's health, 
a united family, a settled home and a dear old 
father, with Emmie's mother and father, in the 
one scale, and you can imagine how great a 
weight must go into the other to outbalance 
this. . . . Were it not for this one drawback, 
and that everywhere present one, of a divided 
family, we should enjoy ourselves very much. 
We have just got settled in a new house, just 
furnished it, just got our servants into shape, 
and are just not ready to leave. So with my 
business; humanly speaking it's not the time to 

go-" 

On the seventeenth of March Mrs. Stearns 

wrote, "I can never hope to be cured here. . . . 

What I am suffering from is an effect of this 

climate, and . . . remaining longer here may 

hinder my ever being cured. Under these 

[ 209 ] 



Married Life 

circumstances there seems but one course for 
us. 

The decision to leave was made at once. 
He wrote on the twenty-eighth of March, 
"It is my intention to go . . . from Port 
Said to Alexandria . . . thence either to 
Brindisi, Naples and Rome, or to Trieste, 
Vienna and Berlin, and thence to Paris. . . . 
I want to go to Jerusalem, but it is desirable 
that [Emmie] should get out of the glare of 
the East, and under softer skies as soon as 
possible. . . . Business prospers. Wonderful, 
wonderful the success with which our labours 
have been crowned.'' 

After a week at Matheran they sailed on 
the Krishna, on the twentieth of April, for 
Suez. 

The letters on their home journey are aggra- 
vatingly few. After a short stay in Egypt, 
they went to Brindisi, thence to Bologna and 
Florence, from which place Mr. Stearns wrote 
on the twenty-second of May, 1868, "We have 
done nothing for the last forty-eight hours but 
gaze at and exclaim over the gorgeous . . . 
scenery. ... I have jumped up about a 
dozen times while writing this, to have a romp 
[ 210 ] 



Last Year in India 

with Ethel, who is an awfully funny little mon- 
key, and the property of yours affectionately, 
Will." 

After several days in Venice, he wrote from 
Milan, on the first of June, 1868, "We are 
going over the Simplon, and have engaged a 
vettertno, rather than a diligence, to Geneva." 
Mrs. Stearns continued from the Hotel de 
TAlma, at Paris on the eighteenth of June, 
" I began to gain strength in crossing the Alps, 
and have been constantly improving, until now 
my general health is better than at any time 
since I left England for Bombay, more than 
a year ago." They sailed from Liverpool for 
America on the twenty-eighth of July, 1868. 



[211] 



X 

Orange 

When the old stage-coach from Northampton 
to Amherst was nearing College Hall, Mrs. 
Stearns, glancing out of the window, saw, 
under the great sycamore tree, three little boys 
dressed in foreign style, waving their hands 
and dancing up and down. She turned to her 
husband in such a way, that he exclaimed, 
"Oh, Emmie ! what is the matter .? Can't I do 
something ?" And then the tears poured down 
her face and she sobbed aloud, "Oh, I think 
joy can kill as well as sorrow ! '' 

Late in August they took all the children, 
and went to Mont Vernon, to visit Mrs. Stearns's 
parents for the rest of the summer. Some one 
asked whether the simplicity of that little vil- 
lage was not too great a contrast to her In-' 
dian life — if Mrs. Stearns did not feel utterly 
sad to have left forever the beautiful country 
where she had had the broadest cosmopolitan 
experience, and known such distinguished men 
[ 212 ] 



Orange 

and women ? Because we know Mrs. Stearns, 
because we know what it meant to her to be 
with her family, reunited, what the hills and 
sky and the whole beauty of nature meant 
to her, we are assured that no regret tainted 
her joy, that if ever in her life she was happy, 
she was happy now. 

Their plans were much unsettled. Mr. 
Stearns, on account of business, must be in 
New York. In October they took a house in 
Orange, New Jersey, — as little like the city 
as any place they could find, on account of 
the children. Although they moved once or 
twice, it was always within the township. 
The house they liked best, and in which most 
of their life in Orange was spent, was situated 
on the corner of Centre Street and Harrison 
Avenue. It has since been torn down, but was 
described as "a beautiful home, with servants 
and horses and carriages in abundance." 

Shortly after they were settled, on the sixth 
of November, 1868, Annie Kirby Stearns was 
born, named after Mrs. Kirby, their dear 
friend. On account of Mrs. Stearns's very 
poor health (for her eyes did not seem to im- 
prove much and gave her constant anxiety 
[ 213 ] 



Married Life 

and pain), their life in Orange was a quiet one. 
It was her great cause for thankfulness that 
she could devote her entire time to the children. 
Mr. Stearns often came home early from New 
York to play with them. If he had promised, 
he never failed. 

The boys were put in school, where Willie, 
in particular, distinguished himself by his fine 
scholarship. Mr. Stearns once said to his father 
in regard to him, "I hope you will live long 
enough to see Willie safely through college, for 
I imagine if he lives and you live, you will have 
more comfort in his scholarly abilities than you 
have had in your own immediate flock." 

The younger children were taught by Mrs. 
Stearns herself. She gave them lessons in 
botany, reading, writing, drawing, and par- 
ticularly reading music. She cut out their 
little clothes too, which were made by the 
seamstress always at hand. The children ate 
upstairs. The only meal which they were al- 
lowed to have with their father and mother was 
Sunday night supper. It had been the same 
when the boys were left at President Stearns's. 
They came to prayers in the morning, as well 
as all the servants. 

[214] 



Orange 

In January, 1869, Mr. Stearns left Mrs. 
Stearns with the children and went back, 
for the last time, to India, for business pur- 
poses. He remained only three months away. 
A letter written to Mrs. Stearns on the return 
voyage, from Suez, says among other things, 
"My coming on has been of great service, . . . 
and though our separation has been necessarily 
prolonged, I trust and believe that its results will 
be beneficial. I can only say dont get used to 
my absence, dont, I pray you with all my heart, 
. . . dont get used to my being away. God 
knows how deeply I feel this new separation. 
God knows how willingly I have sacrificed 
(if I may use the word) a present certainty, 
... for an unknown future, because I love 
you and the dear ones God has given us, better 
than all worldly prospects, or realities of fame 
and fortune. . . . On Monday morning I left 
Cairo for Ismailia with an American gentleman 
of whom I have before written you. . . . We 
arrived at Ismailia at 3 : 30 P. M., stayed there 
over night, and in the morning left for Port 
Sai'd by a special steamer which the Isthmus 
people placed at my disposal ; stayed at Port 
Said over night, was up at 5:30 a. m., visited 

[215] 



Married Life 

the works, and left again at 8 a. m. for Ismailia, 
arriving in season to catch the train for Suez 
where we arrived at 7 : 30 p. m. night before last. 

"Yesterday I went to Chaloof, and returned 
by donkey about 5 p. m., visiting the Suez 
docks after my return. The trip was in every 
respect a most enjoyable one. . . . 

"Well, on arrival here, we found the Neera 
not yet in, and have, as a consequence, been 
hanging about here for two days. . . . Mean- 
while the Calcutta boat has come in w4th two 
hundred and fifty passengers, the usual Indian 
crowd, Europeans, ayahs, native servants, 
washed-out babies, etc. They are all going on 
to-night to Alexandria. . . . The hotel swarms 
with them. When the Bombay mail and the 
Neera both get in, if before these people leave, 
you can imagine the confusion." 

"It is hard," he said, "very hard to be 
obliged to abandon so valuable and interesting 
a business, just as I am in a position to reap 
the fruits of twelve years of hard work, em- 
bracing no less than thirty-eight voyages by 
sea!" He reached New York in April, 1869. 

Early in 1870, Mrs. Stearns's father died. 
In mid-summer, 1870, Mr. Stearns got news 

[216] 



Orange 

of the depression in Bombay, caused by the 
Franco-Prussian war. Of what happened in 
the firm of Stearns, Hobart and Company, 
his own description, written to his father, gives 
the clearest idea. 

"Liverpool, July 29, 1870. 

"Maneckjee Kaka, a very old friend and 
constituent of ours, and my old Hindu friend 
Karsandass Madavadass, the one I was so 
fond of, got advances from the firm against 
consignments of cotton to Liverpool. Against 
these consignments they handed us the bills of 
lading, duly signed by the captain of the ship. 
It now appears that the goods were never 
shipped; that they had induced the captain 
in some way to sign for what he never had, and 
we are swindled. 

"When the affair was found out, Maneckjee 
swallowed a quarter of a pound of laudanum, 
and died in two hours, and Karsandass tried 
to hang himself, but was prevented. He was 
arrested and will probably pass the remainder 
of his days in the Andaman Islands. The cap- 
tain was also arrested. One of our Parsee 
clerks has been mixed up with the affair to 
[ 217 ] 



Married Life 

this extent that he appears to have been either 
a tool in their hands, or wilfully negligent of 
our interests. We must lose very heavily, and 
I don't see that there v^ill be much left v^hen 
all is finished. No one is to blame. ... I 
shall have to buckle to it again. Hov^ever, 
that's fun. ... I am going to see what sort 
of an American merchant I can make now. 
... I don't see how those people get on when 
adversity comes, who can't trust God. Oh, 
yes I can, they take laudanum like poor Ma- 
neckjee, ashamed to face their fellow men, 
but not their God!" 

This is what Mrs. Stearns called the "sec- 
ond failure," — though it did not ultimately 
lead to a failure. Mr. Stearns never quite ral- 
lied, however. He wrote her, "Sometimes I find 
myself wondering how I could by any chance 
be able to exist without your wise care and 
counsel, and the thought of such a contin- 
gency makes me tremble. ... If human wis- 
dom could guide in these matters, it would 
seem to be a thousandfold better that I should 
go first. Though obliged sometimes to differ, 
our differences have never assumed the pro- 

[218] 



Orange 

portions of serious misunderstandings, or have 
approached the shadow of a quarrel. I am less 
and less able to stand alone. In you only I 
find the true care, consolation and wisdom 
necessary for me to play the man. 

"I might perhaps have married a beauty, 
though to me you are as beautiful as the best, 
and have had a thorn in my side all my life, 
and a thorn in my soul for the next. I might 
have married for money, and ruined myself and 
my children. I might even have had a sickly, 
sentimental, namby-pamby girl, who could 
only kiss and hang like a dead weight upon me 
forever. All this and much more ! But God 
in His great love guided me to a better choice, 
and my heart warms with gratitude when I 
think of what He did. . . . I don't know what 
the good Lord means, or what He has in store 
for me ; He does see fit to tumble me over now 
and then in the most unexpected manner. At 
the same time, I find it quite impossible to be 
down-hearted, and feel perfectly certain that 
the future is full of blessings for me. . . . Mrs. 

allows all her children to breakfast with 

them, and talk at the table ! " 

He arrived from Liverpool in August, just 
[ 219 ] 



Married Life 

in time to go with Mrs. Stearns to her mother's 
funeral. Mrs. Kittredge died in Mont Vernon 
on the twenty-eighth of August, 1870. 

On the twenty-second of September, 1870, 
the corner stone of the Amherst College church 
was laid, — a gift which Mr. Stearns had 
made to the college in 1864. [At the time of his 
failure, the Trustees of Amherst College had 
offered to return the money. He refused it.] 
He wrote to President Stearns from New York 
on the nineteenth of September. "You may 
say that it was, or is, the donor's wish that it 
should be a memorial church, if you like. No 
prouder monument can be, or has been, reared 
to the memory of our brave fallen ones. It 
would be well, too, to say that the gift was 
made over six years ago, and that the idea in 
all our minds was to allow the sum to remain 
at interest until the changes consequent upon 
the close of the war in the cost of building, etc., 
should enable you to build to better advantage, 
etc. And you may say further that the leading 
idea when a church is built in memory of . . . 
the dear ones fallen by our side, is that such a 
building should never be desecrated by the 
hurrahs of the students at commencement." 
[ 220 ] 



Orange 

And again, "How can we use money to better 
advantage than by purifying, ennobling, en- 
lightening and strengthening the higher Chris- 
tian sentiments and feelings of those who will 
assist so materially in shaping and fixing the 
Christian life of the coming generations ? In 
this land of the practical, there is danger of 
death to the sentiment of religion. With the 
death of sentiment goes veneration, sacred as- 
sociation and feeling, respect and those kindred 
virtues, the tenor of whose existence is even 
now so v^eak. . . . 

"If the good Lord chooses to increase the 
responsibiHties of my stewardship, I shall hope 
to do more and better than I have thus far 
done/' Later. "While I shall lose heavily in 
Bombay, the horse railway is fast taking a sat- 
isfactory and profitable shape. I have full faith 
that all that is necessary for me will be given." 

"New York, January lo, 1871. 
" Both Emmie and Ethel are unwell, suffer- 
ing with bronchitis; the former so much that I 
think of taking a trip south. I don't see how I 
can spare the time, but it must be done if she 
does not soon recover. ... I was yesterday 
[ 221 ] 



Married Life 

elected Treasurer of the American and East 
India Telegraph Company, a position of some 
honour and perhaps value, if a bill now before 
Congress, asking for the exclusive privilege of 
laying cables between China and our western 
coast, is passed." 

"Brunswick, Georgia, March 4, 1871. 
"Since writing you we have been to Fernan- 
dina, Jacksonville, St. Augustine and back." 

They visited Atlanta, went to Lookout Moun- 
tain to see the Bancrofts (Mrs. Bancroft was 
Mrs. Stearns's sister, Fannie), and in April 
had returned to Orange. 

On the sixth of June, 1871, Alfred Ernest 
Stearns was born in Orange. In September 
they were already in England, a trip they had 
taken for the benefit of Mrs. Stearns's health. 
It is interesting to know that one of the passen- 
gers on the voyage, who was especially con- 
vulsed by Mr. Stearns's funny stories, "none 
of which," he said, could he "afford to forget," 
was Andrew Carnegie. 

In regard to Mrs. Stearns, her husband 
wrote his father from London, on the eighth of 
[ 222 ] 



Orange 

September, 1871. "You will note that she writes 
in good health and spirits. She has been greatly 
benefited by the trip to France. . . . Emmie 
was a very sick woman during the winter, and 
I at one time feared she would never recover. 
Thanks be to God, she is all right now! All 
my business plans have succeeded, and we are 
going to take hold of the new steamship enter- 
prise with vigour [that of establishing direct 
steam communication between the south and 
England]. I expect to have a year of very hard 
work, this coming year, but if I can, by the 
blessing of God, end it as successfully as it opens 
promisingly, I shall be more than satisfied.'* 

In October they returned again to New 
York. He wrote on the twenty-third of March, 
1872, "All the children are well and thriving 
in spite of the cold, wet and gloom. Emmie 
has not been very well for a day or two, though 
she is better to-day. ... So far as family 
matters are concerned, I have less cause for 
worry than my father had." 

Among a score of different business inter- 
ests, his pet enterprise at this time seemed to 
be a super-heated air engine, which was pro- 
nounced excellent by experts. He put a great 
[ 223 ] 



Married Life 

deal of money into it. He was as enthusiastic 
in its praise as its inventor, perhaps as confi- 
dent of its worth and future success, — one 
occasion when his optimism played false. Yet 
his mind had been taxed to its utmost, and 
he had, from time to time, fearful and blind- 
ing headaches. Though they inconvenienced 
him very much at the time, he did not give 
them a second thought. He had not been in the 
habit of considering his body. 

On the twenty-fourth of December, 1872, 
Mabel Kittredge Stearns was born in Orange. 

The year of 1873 passed without incident, 
till Mr. Stearns again visited England during 
November and December, returning to New 
York in January, 1874. It was during this 
absence that Mrs. Stearns, in spite of exceed- 
ingly poor health, raised a large sum of money 
in Orange for a needy hospital. 

Mr. Stearns wrote to his father from New 
York on the seventh of February, 1874, — 

"I have had about as much on my shoul- 
ders for the past six months as they could 
bear, and my bones have creaked and groaned 
under the burden till I thought I could go no 
further. ... I felt quite seedy last summer. 
[ 224 ] 



Orange 

... I lost twenty pounds. . . . But I 'm 
all right now. . . . The engine will be a 
success." 

"April 28, 1874. 
"My engine is perfected. ... It will all 
come out right by and by. I am asking Him if 
He sees fit to send me relief. Love to all. 
Ever affectionately, your eldest son. May he 
never disgrace you ! " 

"New York, May 6, 1874. 
"Emmie's eyes are very bad. , . . The first 
horse railway in Bombay opens to-morrow. 
. . . My engine is for marine purposes." 

His projects were nearing a successful real- 
ization. He saw only the silver lining of the 
clouds, as usual. But his overworked brain 
was giving way under the fearful strain he had 
persisted in putting upon it. The headaches 
were more frequent and less endurable. He 
was losing hold. 



[ 225 ] 



XI 

Death of Mr. Stearns 

On the night of the twentieth of May, 1874, 
Mrs. Stearns had a curious dream. She saw 
herself standing, with bridal veil and orange 
blossoms, beside her husband. Then that vis- 
ion vanished, and she saw herself standing, 
the bridal veil and orange blossoms torn off, — 
alone. She spoke of it to her husband ; he only 
laughed and said he had never felt better. "In 
fact," he added, "you need n't worry about 
my head any more. It's all right." 

In the morning, however, his head was pain- 
ing him so badly, that Mrs. Stearns went into 
New York with him, taking Andy, their col- 
oured butler. The details of the visit to their 
physician are peculiarly distressing — how 
alarmed he was over Mr. Stearns's condition, 
how he administered a dose of morphine to 
relieve the agony, and then how he could not 
accompany them to a hotel, because his own 
wife was at the moment fatally ill, and he him- 
[ 226 ] 



Death of Mr. Stearns 

self almost distracted ; how Mrs. Stearns went 
from one hotel to another, none of them willing 
to take in a dying man, as they supposed Mr. 
Stearns to be. 

There were no telephones then, so she tele- 
graphed down town for Mr. William Kittredge, 
her cousin and Mr. Stearns's business asso- 
ciate at that time. He came at once and took 
them to the old Sturtevant House on the corner 
of Twenty-ninth Street and Broadway. 

When they had been given a room, and an- 
other physician summoned, Mr. Stearns was 
already unconscious. His wife sat by the bed- 
side gazing at him and repeating over and over 
again — "It is not possible! He cannot be 
dead! ... It is not possible!'' The physi- 
cian came, and saw at once that life was ex- 
tinct. It was high noon. 

Owing to the peculiar circumstances of his 
death, Mr. Kittredge feared a post mortem 
examination would be necessary. He dreaded 
the effect upon Mrs. Stearns. While he was 
considering how best to tell her, she said 
calmly, "William, there should be a post 
mortem.''^ 

They took Mr. Stearns's body to a hospital, 
[ 227 ] 



Married Life 

where the examination was made. The cause 
of his death was pronounced the bursting of a 
blood-vessel in the brain. The physician added 
that he had never seen so perfect a human 
body in all his experience, lungs, heart and 
every other organ in ideal health. 

That night Bella, one of the maids, came 
into the nursery and said to the children, in 
an awe-struck whisper, "Mrs. Stearns has 
come back alone ! He must be dead ! " 

They all went to bed as usual, and though 
they had heard nothing, something singular 
seemed to oppress them. 

In the morning Mrs. Stearns called the chil- 
dren and servants together, and told them that 
Mr. Stearns was gone. 

The funeral was held in Orange. The pas- 
tor gave a eulogy of Mr. Stearns's character, 
and expatiated on how much he would be 
missed in the church. 

A commemorative address was delivered to 
the students of Amherst College by Professor 
William S. Tyler, shortly after Mr. Stearns's 
death, "because," to quote Professor Tyler, "a 
life so pure and noble, not to say so romantic 
and heroic as his, has a lesson which it is at 

[228] 



Death of Mr. Stearns 

once our duty and our privilege to learn. . . . 
An erect, manly, noble form, a command- 
ing brow and expressive features; perfect 
health of body, mind and heart ... in short, 
the mens sana in corpore sano. Irrepressible 
activity v^hich could not be confined to study, 
but must v^ork; indomitable pluck which no 
dangers could daunt and no difficulties could 
discourage; constitutional courage, that shrank 
from no perils, tempered and intensified by 
moral courage that feared nothing but sin; 
cheerfulness, hopefulness, joyfulness even un- 
der disappointment and disaster, and almost 
independent of outw^ard circumstances; honour 
and integrity in all his dealings, and especially 
in business transactions; patriotism and public 
spirit, with a cheerful devotion not only of per- 
sonal property, but of time and service to the 
general good; faith in God, . . . Christian 
principles and a Christian spirit, lifting him 
above the fear or the power of men, and lead- 
ing him to do to others as he would have 
others do to him . . . controlled him." 

He was "the strenuous advocate of Chris- 
tianity among the Parsees and Brahmins, the 
wealthy and cultivated classes." 
[ 229 ] 



Married Life 

**The wide knowledge of the world, the 
various stores of experience and observation 
which he had acquired by extensive foreign 
travel and by diligent reading and study, gave 
breadth and versatility to a life of which the 
greatest charm was its pure and lofty morality. 
It is not often that we find such graceful sym- 
metry of character. . . . An overworked and 
diseased brain was the cause of his death. 
. . . Moral and Christian character was Mr. 
Stearns's . . . stock in trade, the element of 
his power, the secret of his success, his chief 
means of usefulness, his unfailing source of 
happiness.'* 

In reference to him the Springfield Republi- 
can said, — 

"The following extracts from a private let- 
ter from Mr. Richard H. Dana, Jr., of Boston, 
to the editor of the Republican, give interesting 
reminiscences of, and bear distinguished but 
just honour to, the late William F.Stearns, . . . 
whose character and life deserve to be much 
better known to the young men of America 
than, from the distant arena of his action, and 
his now early death, they are likely to be : — 

. . . " * I can scarcely credit that he was only 
[ 230 ] 



Death of Mr. Stearns 

thirty-nine at the time of his death. Fourteen 
years ago I visited him in Bombay, and he was 
then the head of the principal American house 
there, with large business and the best of credit 
among the Parsee bankers and English mer- 
chants. And he had founded the house himself, 
not gone into business established by others, 
yet he was then only twenty-five. ... I had 
met with an accident in a gale in the Indian 
Ocean, . . . and went ashore to a native 
hotel, where I had a dull time of it for one day, 
when a handsome young man was announced, 
who claimed, as he politely said, a right to 
take me to his house as a guest, as his father 
and mine had been friends, and he was a Cam- 
bridge boy by birth, though personally we 
were strangers. About three weeks I was his 
guest, at his delightful residence on Malabar 
Hill, and he and his charming and cultivated 
wife made it as happy and interesting a visit 
as it is possible to imagine. ... I left him and 
his wife with a rare feeling of respect, affection 
and gratitude. 

" ' Before thirty, he had been a large bene- 
factor of his father's college, as to other great 
objects of pubhc interest. During our Civil 
[ 231 ] 



Married Life 

War, he was the truest of the true. I had the 
satisfaction of offering his gratuitous services 
to Mr. Fessenden, then Secretary of the Trea- 
sury, to place our bonds and loans among the 
money lenders of the East; and, dearly as he 
loved his gallant brother, he felt that his life 
v^as a sacrifice they almost cheerfully made 
for such a cause. He was truly a noble-minded 
man, full of enthusiasm, generous impulse, 
energy, enterprise and loving-kindness. Per- 
sonally, I am under great obligations to him, 
and wish there may be something in which I 
may join, which shall publicly testify to his 
worth.'" 

After settling Mr. Stearns's estate, it was 
found that there was practically nothing left. 
A ^10,000 life insurance policy had lapsed 
during the year before his death, because, 
his brain being already overstrained, he had 
forgotten to pay the last instalment. Mrs. 
Stearns had $5000 from another policy, how- 
ever — and that was all. She wrote to President 
Stearns on the third of June, 1874, — 

"Two plans are open to me — one, to sell 
at once horses and carriages, which belong to 
me, and what furniture I do not require, re- 
[ 232 ] 



Death of Mr. Stearns 

moving the remainder to Amherst. [Her jewels 
she afterward sold to a well-known Boston 
man of wealth.] The other, to let the house 
for the summer. The latter plan would give 
me more time to consider what was really best 
for the future. My heart prompts me to decide 
at once that Amherst shall be my home, but 
everything is so indefinite now it might be bet- 
ter for me to make no definite plan for the 
present ... I will ask Eliza to make some 
inquiries for me regarding houses in Amherst, 
as I know you must be overwhelmed with care, 
and I do not like to add unnecessarily to your 
burdens, already so great. 

"I cannot write you of that with which my 
heart is so full. I am so stunned and so be- 
wildered that I cannot analyze my own feel- 
ings. I am much comforted in the knowledge 
that you are so wonderfully sustained, and am 
encouraged to trust that the same kind Father 
will give me strength to bear a burden which at 
times seems insupportable." 

The children, at any rate, ought to go to 
President Stearns and his wife, known in Am- 
herst still as "dear Madame Stearns." Miss 
Minnie Kittredge, Mrs. Stearns's younger 
[ 233 ] 



Married Life 

sister, came to Orange, and took the five oldest 
children and Andy, the coloured butler, to 
Amherst, a sad little train, all dressed in deep- 
est mourning. As soon as she could settle her 
affairs, Mrs. Stearns followed, bringing the 
two babies with her. 

The worst, indeed, had come to pass. Her 
seven fatherless children — Willie, the eldest, 
was fourteen, three days before his father's 
death — were dependent on her alone. Her 
own parents were dead ; her money was gone. 

She was so calm that it was feared she would 
lose her mind. Was not this superhuman hero- 
ism the pause before a complete break ? She 
had had no interests apart from his. She had 
rested with such peace on his buoyant nature ! 
She had relied so entirely on his joyousness! 
Surely she could not live without him! 

Suddenly those traits for which she had relied 
upon him became characteristic of her. No one 
was saddened by her grief. Instead, she radi- 
ated strength and peace. Her friends looked 
upon her with awe. 



[ 234 ] 



Interlude 



Interlude 

To a casual observer, Mrs. Stearns's life would 
seem to consist of two parts, utterly distinct. 
The first was a life of events, of promise. The 
second, one in which the few happenings were 
grim finalities. To such an observer it would 
seem that her eyes had been opened to the out- 
side world, and when she had seen the won- 
ders it contains, then to the world within, — to 
its utmost possibilities. Had not her circum- 
stances shown her the glories of the earth, so 
that she might appreciate fully all she had lost ? 
Could experiences so different be contained 
within a single life ? Mrs. Stearns, the grande 
dame of Indian society, could she have been 
recognized now .? Her children only would 
seem to connect these two lives, and to them 
the demands of the second became far more 
engrossing than memories of the first. 

How little an onlooker understands ! How 
little outward circumstances modified the real 
woman ! 

There was no need of a transformation in 

[ 237 ] 



Interlude 

Mrs. Stearns to suit her for a diflPerent environ- 
ment. Those essential, noble traits which had 
characterized her in wealth, remained, strength- 
ened, during the lack of it. Her conditions 
changed; they were found, after all, to be ex- 
ternal. Her self remained the same. As it 
had not been exalted before, it was not over- 
whelmed now. 

A person does not grow strong all at once. 
He cannot tell beforehand what he may have 
to do. He cannot prepare for anything in par- 
ticular except by being ready for everything 
in general. Self-discipline, during long years 
of luxury, had given Mrs. Stearns resources 
equal to any demand that might be made upon 
them. 

She had been schooling herself not only in- 
tellectually. Acquaintance with sickness, death 
and failure had already revealed her power to 
such an extent that Mr. Stearns himself had 
exclaimed, "Emmie, I did n't know you cap- 
able of it!" 

The same confidence which she had felt be- 
fore was not to falter now. Instead, further ca- 
lamities would nerve her on to be even stronger 
still. 

[ 238 ] 



Interlude 

People questioned what the inner resources 
could be which so sustained her. To be sure, 
she had still a few Indian treasures, carvings, 
paintings and rugs. Did she not, perhaps, 
bring with them memories of things so beauti- 
ful that it would be desecration to regret them .? 
Her Indian life had given her a mind full 
of images of which the most ordinary things 
in every-day life were constantly suggestive. 
She did not sigh, because an Amherst sunset 
recalled Matheran, "How different my sur- 
roundings are now!" She thought instead, 
"What a picture this brings to my mind! 
How great my happiness to contemplate so 
beautiful a scene! And this is just an every- 
day experience, so common to us all that hardly 
any one turns to look at it ! " 

As with the sunset, every event must have 
had its Indian parallel, and with that asso- 
ciation, must have gained deeper significance. 
Her memory was as dear as the event itself in 
passing. It could never become bitter. It made 
all the sweeter a like experience which recalled 
the first. Sorrow brought her closer to all that 
was vital in her past life. 

Breadth of vision she had gained from her 

[ 239 ] 



Interlude 

wide experience. For her there was no struggle 
between a world-outlook and a village point of 
view. High motives and sincere conduct are 
understood everywhere; so are devotion to 
duty and joyous sacrifice. Such things had 
absorbed her life in the great world, and were 
equally to absorb it in a small town. She dealt 
with the circumscribed, while seeing always 
the unlimited. 

External resources, too, she had at her com- 
mand. She found the value of a single, com- 
pelling purpose in eliminating non-essentials. 
There is something stimulating about seeing 
what you can do with the inevitable! The 
inevitable was a joyous privilege to her. Pri- 
vations were her opportunities. She found that 
one need not be confronted by obstacles if 
one steps from crest to crest. 

In her own little diary she copied the follow- 
ing quotation. "The longer I live, the more 
certain I am that the great difference between 
men, the feeble and the powerful, the great 
and the insignificant, is energy and invincible 
determination — a purpose once fixed, and 
then death or victory. That quality will do 
anything that can be done in this world; and 
[ 240 ] 



Interlude 

no talents, no circumstances, no opportunities 
will make a two-legged creature a man without 
it." 

Sorrow in Mrs. Stearns could not be weak- 
ness. It must be strength. She must turn 
affliction to good. For her children's sakes she 
would make her Hfe a success. 

Yet after all, this dissection does not reveal 
her real sources of power. I have not explained 
why trial exalted her. Her strength seemed 
superhuman. Was it not indeed so .? For her 
religion interpreted everything — human suf- 
fering as well as the beauty of the universe. 

The life of Mrs. Stearns was not finished. 
How much was reserved for her to do! In- 
stead of being crushed so that two lives instead 
of one had ceased at her husband's death, the 
life of the Mrs. Stearns we knew was only just 
beginning, — what might be called her life- 
work not even yet begun. 



[241] 



Part II 

Life Alone 



I 

Beginning of Life in Amherst 

There is a little diary in which Mrs. Stearns 
made a few entries during these first lonely 
years. Some quotations follow. 

"Sunday, May 23, 1875. 
"Two days since I entered upon my second 
year of widowhood, — two days since we car- 
ried our first spring offering of flowers to dear 
Will's grave, and kept the first anniversary of 
his entrance into rest. Sometimes when I think 
of the crushing disappointments which one 
after another overtook him, . . . the thought 
of this rest for him is very sweet. . . . The 
ends he sought were noble. . . . Through all 
the disappointments, . . .his faith in God's 
goodness never grew dim; his willingness to do 
and be just what his Father in Heaven willed, 
abode with him ; his desire to grow into a per- 
fect likeness to the dear Lord, was the deepest 
desire of his heart, and so I know that to-day 
he is at rest and with the Lord. 

[245] 



Life Alone 

"Sometimes during these last days I have 
been oppressed with the thought that the pain 
of separation from Will increases rather than 
diminishes; the way before me looks darker, 
I have less courage for the struggle which seems 
inevitable. Still, in looking back over the past, 
I must acknowledge that but for Divine 
strength, I should have found life impossible. 
I am grateful to that kind Providence which so 
ordered the events of my daily life as to leave 
me little time for thought and reflection ; I feel 
that this great burden of care, which has pur- 
sued me during the whole year, has been what 
was best for me." 

** August 24, 1875. 

"Amid the rush of the day's duties, which 
I cannot lay aside, even for an anniversary like 
that of to-day, my thoughts will rush back to 
my marriage day. 

"Two thoughts fill my mind as I look back 
over the sixteen years. I am filled with an over- 
whelming sense of gratitude for all the happi- 
ness which my union with Will has brought 
me. The picture is only darkened by my own 
shortcomings. . . . Another thought fills me 
to-day, and that is a consciousness that this 

[246] 



Beginning of Life in Amherst 

union with dear Will was never stronger than 
now. The bodily presence is removed, and a 
terrible and impenetrable darkness shuts it 
from my longing sight. Still he is spiritually 
present in my every thought. The work which 
is left me to do, alone, the training of these 
dear children for a higher existence, is the 
same work which for long years we tried in 
God's strength to do together. It cannot have 
less interest to him, now that he has entered 
into that higher existence himself. No! a 
thousand times, no! It must assume an im- 
portance to him which is far beyond anything 
I can conceive in my present imperfect state. 
To have entered into the very presence of the 
dear Lord, and then to have ceased to care 
whether his children are learning to love the 
same dear Lord, this is an impossibihty ! Rather 
will I believe that he yearns for our highest 
good with an intensity unknown to him here, 
and that he may be permitted in some mys- 
terious way to minister to us." 

*' Sunday, November 28, 1875. 
"In my dreams last night my mind wan- 
dered back to a time before my marriage, and 
[ 247 ] 



Life Alone 

there seemed to be a fear in my mind that a 
misunderstanding and perhaps ahenation was 
likely to grow up between myself and Will. 
As I aw^oke to a state of consciousness and re- 
membered how very different the reality had 
been; how for fifteen years we had been spared 
to each other, in a happiness so deep and real; 
how our union had been enriched with the 
lives of the dear children, how even death 
itself seemed powerless to really separate us 
from each other, I felt myself overwhelmed 
with gratitude to the dear Lord who had 
made my life so rich in blessing. . . . Dear 
Lord I thank Thee that Thou hast made my 
poor life so rich, and I especially thank Thee 
that now, in my sorrow, I am kept from mur- 
muring, and that I can repose with such sure 
confidence in Thy tender love and care." 

She has written in the same little diary this 
quotation from Charles Kingsley's Life: — 

"The expression of love produces happiness; 
therefore, the more perfect the expression, the 
greater the happiness! And, therefore, bliss 
greater than any we can know here, awaits us 
in heaven. And does not the course of nature 

[248] 



Beginning of Life in Amherst 

point to this ? What else is the meaning of the 
gradual increase of love on earth ? What else 
is the meaning of old age ? When the bodily 
powers die, while the love increases ? What 
does that point to but to a restoration of the 
body when mortality is swallowed up of life ? 
Is not the mortality of the body sent us mer- 
cifully by God to teach us that our love is 
spiritual and therefore will be able to express 
itself in any state of existence ? . . . And the 
less perfect union on earth shall be replaced 
in heaven by perfect spiritual bliss and union, 
inconceivable because perfect!" 

She had rented a house in Amherst on 
Amity Street. She sometimes said that she 
never fully realized the load of her responsi- 
bility till she saw those seven children, Willie 
leading, issue from a closet, one after another, 
playing they were a train of cars ! It seemed 
impossible that they could all belong to her. 
Her sister, Miss Minnie Kittredge, had come 
to stay with her. The older children were doing 
well in school. 

No one could ever have guessed that with 
her husband's death, the buoyancy of her life 
[ 249 ] 



Life Alone 

had been taken away. Her heart broken, resig- 
nation was never her ideal, but a life of joyful 
service. Hers, was the happy ability to identify 
herself with the place where she chanced to 
be, "not moaning over lost splendour or trying 
to keep up the dignitaries who might, in her 
misfortune, have forgotten her." "She knew," 
as President Stearns said, "both how to abase 
and to abound." She had brought into play 
those qualities which would be of use in her 
new Hfe. It is not strange that she always found 
at her disposal the trait that would have been 
of most value to her at each period of her life, 
— humility in youth; poise in India; courage 
and wisdom in Amherst. She had possessed 
them all from the beginning ! 

In the midst of quiet, on the eighth of June, 
1876, occurred the totally unexpected death 
of President Stearns. She had come to Amherst 
because he was there. She had come to rely 
on his help in bringing up her boys, — to ask 
his advice at each step of her way. Yet it was 
not his advice alone on which she depended. 
Her affection for him, — could it bear his loss ? 
Without his help and without him, — could 
she go on ? 

[ 250 ] 



Beginning of Life in Amherst 

Dr. Stearns had never become fully recon- 
ciled to his son Will's death. Frazar he had 
sacrificed to his country. On Will he was to 
lean in his old age. He never recovered from 
the shock of his death. 

In her diary there is an entry on the eleventh 
of June, 1876. "Three days since . . . my 
husband's father passed into his rest. He had 
not felt quite w^ell for a day or two, but at- 
tended to all his college duties. On the morn- 
ing of the eighth he attended prayers at college, 
and at the end of the service, was seized with 
an attack of fainting. Returning home, the 
physician was summoned, but expressed no 
alarm. About six o'clock in the afternoon, 
while resting upon the couch in his room, he 
passed away without a moment's struggle or 
suffering. 

. . . "Oh, how I dreaded to tell the dear 
children that they were again so bereft, that 
that dear presence, which had so supported and 
helped us in our loneliness had gone out from 
us. ... I tried to picture to them the happi- 
ness of their own papa in this reunion, and to 
make them feel that while we must give him 
up, their papa would enjoy the blessed society 

[251] 



Life Alone 

which we had lost. This helped them greatly, 
and seemed to take away much of their grief. 
"For myself, I hardly dare face the increased 
loneliness which has come upon me. I realize 
now, as I have not before, how I have been 
helped by the consciousness of my dear fa- 
ther's deep sympathy for me and the children. 
His sweet and tender interest, ... his long- 
ing for their highest good, — what an inspira- 
tion have they been to me in my work ! God 
grant I may feel the inspiration still, though I 
can no longer look into that face so full of love 
and tenderness. . . . And now to-day, while 
we are mourning, he is at rest, and in the very 
presence of the dear Lord whom he has served 
so earnestly." 

" Sunday, June 25, 1876. 

"While I am sitting here the children are 
listening to father's Baccalaureate sermon de- 
livered by Pres. Clark Seelye. I had not the 
courage to attend the service. . . . Oh, if to-day 
we could penetrate the veil which hides the loved 
ones from our view! With what are their 
thoughts occupied on this Lord's day .? Are we 
as completely shut out from their knowledge as 
they from ours .? To questions like these there 
[ 252 ] 



Beginning of Life in Amherst 

comes no response, and the mysteries of the un- 
seen world must remain hidden from us till we, 
too, enter within the veil. We have no experi- 
ence of a life such as they now enjoy, but this 
mortal life of ours is a part of their past, and 
must, it seems to me, be still present to their 
thoughts. . . . If I know my own heart I long 
for nothing so much as for perfection, to be 
transformed into the image of the Saviour ! And 
is it possible that we may look forward to such 
blessedness .f* *We shall be like Him' — what 
wonderful words, and with what joy can we lay 
aside this mortal body when such hope is ours ! 
But Oh, for the strength to honour Him now, to 
reflect more of His image in our lives, so that 
all near us should feel the reality of our Chris- 
tian life!" 

Less than six months after the death of 
President Stearns, Mrs. Stearns learned of the 
fatal illness of her brother George. He died, 
four days after the following letter to her 
sister was written by Mrs. Stearns. 

"Amherst, Mass., March 2, 1877. 
"How can we give him up! . . . He has 
been so especially dear and helpful to me since 

[ 253 ] 



Life Alone 

Will went. What happiness to have such a 
brother, and to feel that death, even, cannot 
take him really from us, only separate us, for 
a short time. . . . Oh, in these dark hours, 
how real do all the hopes, which reach forward 
to a better life than this, seem — the very 
darkness about us makes them luminous. 
" Do not call me strong to-day. I feel . . . 
weakness itself; but He who calls us to walk 
through this darkness can give us all needed 
strength. The poor children are greatly sad- 
dened. . . . They are learning sorrow's lesson 
early." 



[254] 



II 

Opening of the School 

She was being left more and more alone. 
The realization that she could not bring up her 
children in the present state of her finances 
was slowly forcing itself upon Mrs. Stearns. 
Could she, perhaps, take some other children 
into her family to educate with her own ? The 
President's house was not to be needed by the 
incoming president. 

The trustees of the college, out of apprecia- 
tion for Mrs. Stearns's heroism, and her hus- 
band's generosity, offered her the use of the 
President's house. She refused to occupy it 
unless she were allowed to pay rent for it. 
The agreement was made, and in August, 1877, 
she moved in. 

In order to secure pupils, she sent out a 
small circular, notifying her friends that she 
was about to start a Home School for Little 
Girls. She stated her name, gave the advan- 
tages of being in such a place as Amherst 

[255] 



Life Alone 

— both for the intellectual atmosphere and 
beauty of the location — adding that the little 
girls should be brought up with her own chil- 
dren, and have exactly the same treatment. In 
point of fact, they received more care, for, hav- 
ing undertaken the school, it should have her 
first attention. As for teachers, she and Miss 
Kittredge would certainly suffice at first. No 
one could question her equipment for carrying 
on such a school. It was to be a home for 
these little girls. She could surely make it so. 
As for their instruction, her early successful 
experience in teaching had proved her ability. 

The school opened about the middle of 
September, 1877, with one pupil, who arrived 
the day before. Mrs. Stearns wrote with de- 
light, "My first pupil is to remain the entire 
year." Still early in the fall, another scholar 
came, and her name was Emma Moody, the 
daughter of the famous evangelist, Dwight 
L. Moody. She had been told by her mother 
that she was to be sent away to a boarding- 
school ! The mere thought of being separated 
from her mother and left to the care of some 
person she had never seen filled her with dis- 
may. The hated day arrived in late September. 

. [256] 



Opening of the School 

She left her home in Northfield and came 
down the beautiful Connecticut. From North- 
ampton she branched off across the meadows 
in the old, lumbering stage-coach, which trav- 
elled the highroad between Northampton and 
Amherst, and dismounted in front of a very 
dignified, great house. She noticed the terraced 
steps, the cold, white trimmings on the brick 
walls, the great pine and horse-chestnut trees 
overarching. Her heart thumped very hard 
indeed as she went up those steps and stood, 
waiting for a maid to open the very big, white 
door! 

What was her joy to be taken into a large 
drawing-room : — a wonderful Eastern rug 
quite covered the floor, and a great round table, 
such as she had never seen, stood at one side. 
It was like a circular piece of lace-work in 
black silk, heavy enough to stand on top of the 
single pedestal, self-supported, just drooping 
over at the edges. Yes, and on it there stood 
a carved ivory elephant, which, having seen 
at a glance, she could never forget. And she 
saw a blur of a great painting of waterfalls 
and wading horses, and many rich gold frames, 
and a smaller, much-carved table like the 

[257] 



Life Alone 

larger one, and tall, curled pedestals like it, 
and chairs like it! And there, on the grand 
piano which stood opposite, a bunch of brilliant 
autumn flowers caught just a ray of slanting 
sunlight ! 

" Is this school, mama ? " — was all she said. 

Pretty soon she heard a faint little rustle 
and a lady all in black came into the room. 
She was so superbly stately! Yet so kindly, 
so sympathetic that the one longing of the little 
girl was to run and throw her arms about Mrs. 
Stearns's neck, and tell her all that was deepest 
in her child-heart — farthest from the world, 
even the friendly world before now. From that 
moment Mrs. Stearns held the child's heart in 
her grasp. 

Then Emma was shown a beautiful room, 
all partitioned off with light-blue curtains. 
In it there were three little beds, side by side, 
and one was to be hers, and one the other 
pupil's, and one Ethel's. The thought flashed 
across Emma's mind, " She lets her own lovely 
daughter sleep in oiir room with us ! " 

Her little guests were as Mrs. Stearns's own. 
This spirit ruled the household. What the 
Stearns children had, the two little pupils had. 

[258] 



Opening of the School 

There was not any saving of the best for 
her own children. Emma Moody never once 
thought that she was in a "boarding-school/' 
It just seemed as though she had come to live 
in the most beautiful of homes ! 

The breakfasts were so bright and cheery! 
Everybody came down happy. There must not 
be a cloudy face to start somebody else out 
gloomily on a brand-new day. Harold was 
the fun of the house — as much of a tease as 
his father before him. Yes, he was decidedly 
Emma's favourite among the boys. But Ethel ! 
She was as beautiful as the rarest exotic blos- 
som, and as near a saint as any mortal could 
be. She was her mother's greatest help. She 
never needed a word of correction. This 
reminiscence is interesting in the light of what 
Ethel was by nature. She had, as a little child, 
a temper which terrified them all, unlike Annie, 
who seemed to have been born a saint. Mr. 
Stearns said of Ethel, when she was not quite 
eight years old, "You can see the fire of the 
child in her face, while the very attitude of 
* Do it if you dare ! ' is to my mind singularly 
good. She is our storm-cloud, but has elements 
of great strength of character in her compo- 
[ 259 ] 



Life Alone 

sition." These "elements" seemed already, — 
she was just twelve, — to have developed into 
something more. 

She organized Sunday meetings in the sunny 
school- room, to which she invited the other 
children. Emma did n't dislike them exactly, 
but she felt she was not a great addition to the 
assembly. One Sunday she was seized with an 
uncontrollable fit of laughter, at precisely the 
most serious climax. Ethel, a year younger 
than she, turned upon her. "Emma, you 
forget where you are. I think you had better 
leave the room." And Emma did. Moreover 
she waited outside the door, with tears stream- 
ing down her face, to apologize to Ethel when 
the meeting was over. 

The children were never left alone on Sun- 
day afternoons. It is a time peculiarly distaste- 
ful to most high-spirited children. Never so to 
Mrs. Stearns's ! They all went into the bright 
school-room, and after they had learned their 
verses from the Bible, she told them stories. 
"Once there was a little girl, no bigger than 
Emma or Ethel. She was a dark-haired, dark- 
eyed, dark-skinned little girl, with beautiful 
coral earrings and a long, white veil covering 
[ 260 ] 



Opening of the School 

her all up. She was not a happy, care-free lit- 
tle girl. She was married to an old, old man, 
and one day the old man died. A big pile of 
logs and sticks was made, and the body of the 
old man was laid upon it to be burned ! The 
little widow, if she is not to be despised by all 
her relatives, and all his relatives, and cast out 
of society, must lie down beside her husband 
on the funeral pyre, and be burned with him ! 
Well, this little widow of mine was saved from 
such a horrible death, three separate times, by 
the British soldiers. They took her at last to 
the Mission House, where she was educated and 
kept in safety. After she grew up she taught 
the other poor little heathen widows what a 
glorious thing it is to live in Christ!" 

What splendid nutting trips they had with 
Miss Minnie! And yet, they could hardly wait 
to get back and tell Mrs. Stearns each least 
incident of the day, how many basketfuls each 
child had gathered, how far they had walked, 
how many trees Harold and Arthur had climbed. 
Nothing was enjoyed until dear Mrs. Stearns 
had heard about it. How often have we all used 
that expression, "Dear Mrs. Stearns!" "Our 
Mrs. Stearns!" "My Mrs. Stearns!" 
[261 ] 



Life Alone 

And the keenest joy of all was when Mrs. 
Stearns would get out her treasure-trunk from 
India, once in a great while, — for she rarely 
spoke of her Indian life, and the splendour to 
which she was accustomed there. Then the 
children's round eyes would glisten, as she 
showed them silks and jewels of the unreal 
Orient, and told them stories of bungalows and 
palm-trees, and little black-eyed native chil- 
dren. 

When the time came to go home for the 
Christmas holidays, Emma was asked for the 
first time in her life to pack her own trunk. She 
feared the worst, but accomplished it alone. 
Perhaps the underpinning was not altogether 
what it should have been. Be that as it may, 
a pair of rubbers first caught the eye on the top 
tray. Mrs. Stearns came in and suggested, 
laughingly, that that was not the wisest way to 
pack a trunk. Without hurting Emma's pride 
in the least, she made her want to take every- 
thing out and begin again. This is entirely 
like Mrs. Stearns, as is also the fact that she 
brought in a chair and watched the little girl 
as she did it for the second time, suggesting 
many ways in which to make it easier. Emma 
[ 262 ] 



Opening of the School 

instantly realized, somehow or other, that on 
the many journeys which the Moody family 
would be obliged to take, this would be a fine 
way in which to help, provided she could do it 
nicely. 

"And," Mrs. Fitt — Emma Moody's pre- 
sent name — added, "through all these years, 
whenever I have packed a trunk badly I have 
been glad Mrs. Stearns was not there to see it. 
Or if I have packed one well, I have longed to 
show it to her. 

"No, I never felt as if I were in school. If 
there were rules I never knew them. As I grew 
older and went to other schools, Mrs. Stearns's 
was my ideal still; to grow more like her, the 
central thought which I carried through my 
girlhood. When one has loved Mrs. Stearns, 
one must always love her, and her example is 
more to me now, after thirty years, than it was 
then. With one child of my own and all the 
care that it entails, I realize what must have 
been her power, that with seven of her own, be- 
sides a growing school, Mrs. Stearns could lead 
each one in the way it should go — and never 
against its will. Even child that I was, I often 
wondered how she managed to make her two 

[263] 



Life Alone 

pupils always feel so happy, and never as 
though they were outsiders. As a child I loved 
her, as a mother I revere her. 

" Judgment was her most noticeable trait of 
mind, as her power for loving was her chief 
trait of soul. And when one thinks of the cross 
she was carrying at the time, and how heavy- 
hearted and uncertain for the future — it is 
almost incredible. If anything could be a 
greater tribute than the implicit trust of all the 
parents of her pupils, it would be the faith of 
the children themselves. For as a child knows 
something is wrong and cannot tell what, so 
a child, also, is the quickest to know that all 
is well though it cannot tell why. 

"In these days a person establishes a pri- 
vate school because she thinks she can make 
more money than by ordinary teaching. Oh, 
if I could find such a school — no, such a wo- 
man as Mrs. Stearns to whom to entrust my 
daughter! I could wish nothing better in life 
for her." 

Such is the memory of a girl of thirteen after 
thirty years ! Such was Mrs. Stearns to us all. 

Chance, they say, compels a person to change 

[264] 



Opening of the School 

his vocation, and he often finds he excels in 
the one a mere accident forced him to choose. 
Mrs. Stearns beheved that not chance, but a 
loving Providence had ordained for her the 
circumstances best suited to her own develop- 
ment. Whichever way we look at it, the con- 
clusion is the same. She found herself more 
than able to succeed with the life she had un- 
dertaken with such hesitancy, and was filled 
with joy at that realization. 

A third scholar came later in the year, and 
one of the three remained with Mrs. Stearns 
during the next summer. She had, as well, a 
friend or two. One of them, Mrs. Charlotte 
E. L. Slocum, who came to Amherst to attend 
Dr. Sauveur's Summer School of Languages, 
recalls that summer of 1878. 

" I had heard a great deal from my relatives 
about * Cousin Emmie,' and came prepared to 
admire and love her. She, on the other hand, 
knew little of me beyond the letters I had writ- 
ten her. So, on arriving, I was rather awed by 
her kindly, but distant and dignified reception. 
I well remember how queenly I thought her, 
and how I wondered if she would let me know 
her as I wished. 

[265] 



Life Alone 

"The school opened immediately and ab- 
sorbed my time. She, too, was very busy, and 
we might not have drawn much nearer but for 
a severe headache that attacked me. When 
she found how ill I was, she took the case in 
hand to such purposethat the headache yielded, 
to her great pleasure, and my ardent gratitude. 

"Her mind was constantly busy with plans 
for her school. She discussed plans of study, 
— finding that I, too, was a teacher, — and 
plans of Bible study. 'That I shall always 
conduct myself,' she said. 

"Three traits deeply impressed me: — her 
wise and cultivated ability to judge and plan : 
her motherliness, constantly watchful, yet tact- 
ful in avoiding irksome regulations : and her 
happy and genuine religiousness. 

!' Coming up behind us one day she over- 
heard Ethel lamenting to me the size of her 
hands. *Yes,' she said as she passed us, with 
an intonation that expressed a world of ten- 
der comprehension and good cheer; *yes, but 
they are going to do great work for mamma.' 

"The boys had their outdoor duties, and 
their collections and other treasures to their 
hearts' content; the girls their work and 
[ 266 ] 



Opening of the School 

recreations. It was easy to see that they all 
were loyal and devoted to her. The relation 
between her and her eldest son, then only 
eighteen, seemed to me ideal, in admitting him 
to her confidence as a man, while she mothered 
him as a boy. 

" It was interesting, too, to watch her plea- 
sure in the Summer School and in intercourse 
with the French professors, clearly a great 
pleasure to them also. No doubt it brought 
back memories of her Paris days. 

"When I went away, regretfully, she added 
to her leave-taking a quiet, 'I know you, now,' 
and I smiled to think how my first awe had 
vanished. . . . That summer is to me a unique 
treasure of memory." 

The second year the school opened with 
four scholars, a fifth coming in before the year 
was over. There was added, too, another 
teacher. Miss Lyman, like all her teachers a 
genuine support and comfort to Mrs. Stearns. 



[267] 



Ill 

Early Years of the School 

The school of the first years is hardly the 
school as it was when under way. It was 
modified from year to year. As her own girls 
grew older, the boarders becoming correspond- 
ingly older, the regulations were suitably 
changed. New teachers were added, also, as 
the need for them grew. In the early days, 
Mrs. Stearns had had time to kiss each child 
good-night. Later, when the number had 
grown to fifteen, the average, perhaps, through 
the years, it became of course impossible. 

During the third year we find two more en- 
tries in her little diary. These are, unfortu- 
nately, the last. 

''February lo, 1880. 

"As I look at the last date in this journal I 
am amazed at the flight of time. Oh, how full 
of care have these years been since my school 
opened ! . . . I might fill a journal with in- 
teresting experiences, but I have neither the 

[268] 



Early Years of the School 

time, nor will the condition of my eyes per- 
mit." 

"February 19, 1880. 

" Oh, if I could have the means to help others 
with, which was once mine, how well I should 
know how to use it! How I should know just 
how to lighten the burden of many a poor 
widow, struggling with difficulties of which the 
world is ignorant! How much of our experi- 
ence seems to come too late! and yet not too 
late, if we make that use of it which the dear 
Lord intends. 

"As we get on in life and begin to see even 
here how terrible are the results of disobedi- 
ence to God's laws, do we not shudder at the 
thoughtlessness of our earlier years! Oh, if 
only then we could have seen how our neglect 
to overcome evil thoughts and habits was to be 
visited upon our dear children, making the 
struggle with evil so much harder for them, 
should we not have cried out for that Divine 
help which alone makes victory possible ^ 
The 'Thou shalt not' of our Heavenly Father 
should have been enough, so that we are with- 
out excuse." 

In 1880 Miss Snell came to teach in the school, 

[269] 



Life Alone 

living, however, at her own home. She re- 
mained through all the years till the school 
was given up. In the fall of 1880 one of the 
pupils was Sara Eddy, now Mrs. Lyles, who 
has written a few memories of her "happy 
school days with dear Mrs. Stearns." 

"From her first cordial welcome, with her 
own individual and hearty handshake, on 
through the years while a pupil, and later only 
as an *old Convent girl,' it was always like 
going home to go back to Mrs. Stearns. The 
mother-welcome never failed. 

"My arrival at the school was in the old 
Northampton stage, and Mrs. Stearns was 
then living in the President's house. We also, 
in those days, attended church in the beautiful 
chapel presented by Mrs. Stearns's husband 
to the college. 

"The day began with prayers in the library, 
after which came breakfast, and then a short 
walk before school duties began. The older 
girls studied in their rooms, between recitations 
and practising, and the younger girls were in 
the school-room where most of the recitations 
were held." 

"At 10:30 we had a short recess. During 
[ 270 ] 



Early Years of the School 

the recess we gathered in the large music-room, 
where we sang and ate cookies. I am sure that 
the songs which were then in vogue, were never 
sung with more zeal than we sang them. Our 
favourites were, * Won't You Tell Me Why, 
Robin,' and * Some Day.' After this recess, Mrs. 
Stearns had our French class, and then a class 
in harmony. We had dinner in the middle of 
the day, and usually discussed current topics. 
We had mathematics with Miss Snell at one 
o'clock. Then came philosophy and astronomy 

0113:30." 

"After school hours, we took long walks all 
about the beautiful country. After tea, and be- 
fore study-hour (which was in our rooms), there 
was sometimes dancing, and often music. Par- 
ticularly I associate Mrs. Stearns's own won- 
derfully sweet voice with that hour, and some 
of the words of those songs bring the whole 
picture, with the sweet voice, back to me as I 
write." 

To quote Mrs. Stearns's daughter, Mabel: 
"Every night after supper the girls begged 
mother to sing — and they gathered in the front 
parlour, while she sang to them song after song. 
I used to hide under the sofa in the hall, hop- 
[ 271 ] 



Life Alone 

ing no older brother or sister would find me 
and take me off to bed, but instead, that I 
might listen and cry to my heart's content, it 
was so beautiful. The two songs I remember 
the most distinctly were * The Lark,' which had 
a beautiful running accompaniment, and * Gen- 
tle Dove Within My Chamber.' She played 
her own accompaniments. I have only to shut 
my eyes and the true, sweet voice comes back 
to me." 

Mrs. Lyles continues, "We enjoyed greatly 
a little French play in which Mrs. Stearns 
drilled us, and then invited a number of 
guests for an audience. She was most enthusi- 
astic in her efforts to train her pupils, and so 
delighted when she succeeded in imparting to 
them her enthusiasm, and a little of her fine 
accent! 

"It was during those first years that Mrs. 
Stearns had so much illness and sorrow in her 
family. The quiet example which she set be- 
fore her girls of courage, and a wonderful faith, 
was a remarkable illustration of her own teach- 
ings." 

One or two things in this letter need a word 
of explanation. The name "Convent" was 
[ 272 ] 



Early Years of the School 

given to Mrs. Stearns's school by the Amherst 
students, because the girls — or "young ladies " 
they might now be better called — were so 
strictly chaperoned. Her girls have very dear 
associations with the name. 

Mrs. Lyles speaks of the illness in Mrs. 
Stearns's family. For some time she had been 
noticing a growing weakness in her oldest son. 
He had always been rather delicate, but 
though the doctors feared tuberculosis, they 
could discover no disease of any kind. He was 
simply pining away. He had entered Amherst 
College with the class of 1882, and remained 
through part of his sophomore year, when he 
was obliged to leave. During the year 1880, 
a girl had entered the school who was ill, and 
her trouble proved to be tuberculosis of the 
lungs. She was so ill that she did not attend 
any classes, but remained in her room. Ethel 
used to sit with her, and read to her, and tell 
her stories. The girl left, after a stay of less 
than three months, — Mrs. Stearns thought it 
wiser, although they did not consider tuber- 
culosis contagious in those days. 

Willie grew steadily worse. The school con- 
tinued as usual. The girls were not permitted 

[ '^n ] 



Life Alone 

to feel the slightest sadness on account of his 
illness. 

It became necessary to send him away. 
In the spring of 1881 Miss Kittredge took him 
to Colorado Springs, where, just a week after 
his arrival, he died, on the twelfth of May, 
1881. 

Willie was the only child, at the time of his 
father's death, who could understand what his 
loss meant, even in the smallest degree. Some- 
times in the night, at the end of a long, brave 
day, Mrs. Stearns would give way to the grief 
of her heart, and as she lay sobbing, there would 
come a tap at the door and Willie would softly 
ask, "Is there anything I can do, mother .f*" 
"No, dear," she would reply, "you must go 
back to bed again." She always felt that he 
died of grief. His body was brought back to 
Amherst, where it was buried on his twenty- 
first birthday. 

The girls, during this brief period, were scat- 
tered in the houses of various friends, until 
after the funeral, when the school duties were 
resumed. 

Harold, meanwhile, who had been a year at 
Andover, where his uncle. Dr. Bancroft — 
[ 274 ] 



Early Years of the School 

the husband of Mrs. Stearns's sister — was 
principal of the academy, entered Amherst 
College in the fall of 1881. He remained during 
his freshman year only, for in 1882 he devel- 
oped alarming symptoms, which foreshadowed 
tuberculosis. Harold, the handsome boy with 
such superb colour! Mrs. Stearns sent him 
on a sailing voyage to the Orient. He visited 
Japan and Java, and remained away a year. 

People have questioned how it was possible 
for Mrs. Stearns to do for her children what 
she did. Where did the money come from ? 
The only answer Mrs. Stearns would make 
is that what they needed, they must have. 
And they did. 

Moreover, she discovered that some trades- 
men who had been her husband's creditors at 
the time of his death, had received only a per- 
centage on what was owing them. In a few years 
after the school was started, she paid them all 
in full, and she never borrowed a cent of 
money in her life ! 

Ethel was not only beautiful, but talented. 

She wrote well, had a remarkable voice, and 

was the noblest and strongest character of the 

family. She had been failing gradually during 

[ 275 ] 



Life Alone 

the entire school year of 1881-82. What could 
be done? She had no pain. There was no strug- 
gle. She only faded, slowly. She was not an 
invalid, never being confined to her bed. Mrs. 
Stearns tried to keep Annie away from her. 
Yet she did not wish Annie to suspect that her 
exquisite sister could do her harm. Annie's 
chief delight was to spend long, sunny hours 
with Ethel in her large southern room. When 
they urged Annie to go out of doors, Ethel would 
say pathetically, " But she wants to stay with 
me ! '' And so she stayed. Shortly after the be- 
ginning of the school year 1882-83, four days 
after her seventeenth birthday, Ethel died of 
tuberculosis of the lungs, on the fifteenth of 
October, 1882. The main dependence of her 
mother was gone ! 

Some of the girls went to Miss SnelFs house, 
others remained with Mrs. Stearns. The day 
after Ethel's funeral, the lessons were resumed 
as usual. 

Could Mrs. Stearns afford to look back, to 
wonder whether she had done all for Ethel that 
could have been done, or to allow herself to 
realize the full extent of her grief .^ Through 
it, she seemed to have gained, in every pur- 

[276] 



Early Years of the School 

pose, a still higher tendency. All her energy 
should be bent toward making life gladder for 
those who remained. The school could not 
pause to look back. The words she wrote to 
another who was in agony of spirit, explain, in 
part, her own courage. " If only my tears would 
make your sorrow less ! . . . But Oh, how 
hard, how dreadfully hard ! I feel sometimes 
as though I could not bear the thought of this 
suffering from separations of loved ones by 
death. What horrible darkness it would be but 
for the revelation which Christ has made, . . . 
and the assurance that our dear ones are there 
waiting for our coming." 

Her certainty of this reunion was unassaila- 
ble. It was her chief source of power through 
all the years. One of her pupils at this time, 
Hattie Alexander, now Mrs. Holliday, writes, 
"Her silent grief impressed the girls very 
much, and created more sympathy than if 
she had openly manifested it. . . . For her 
pupils there was always a smile and a loving 
caress, perhaps bestowed as she thought of the 
beautiful daughter she had lost. 

"Honour was Mrs. Stearns's rule. We were 
never commanded to do anything, but were 

[277] 



Life Alone 

simply told what she desired, and what she 
thought was right. It was her trust in the girls 
that won their love." 

This was about the time when Mr. H. G. 
Tucker, of Boston, began to come to Mrs. 
Stearns's school once a week to give piano- 
forte lessons. Aside from the pleasure she took 
in his playing and teaching, his visits were a 
very real help to her. We all remember how 
eagerly she looked forward to "Mr. Tucker's 
day," their dinner-time discussions of topics 
which we could not imagine interesting, but 
which had a world-wide scope! 

It may not be too inappropriate to insert, 
here, an appreciation of Mrs. Stearns sent by 
Mr. Tucker, shortly after her death. 

"The dearest friend on earth. The kindest 
and most loving of women. The best condi- 
tioned and most unwearied spirit in doing cour- 
tesies. Her words were bonds. Her love sin- 
cere. Her thoughts immaculate. Her tears pure 
messengers sent from the heart. Her heart as 
far from fraud as heaven from earth. Remember 
her .r* Aye, while memory holds a seat in this 
distracted globe." 

From this time on, art formed an important 

[278] 



Early Years of the School 

part of the school Hfe. Many girls studied not 
only the pianoforte with Mr. Tucker, but sing- 
ing and painting in oil and water colour with 
Mrs. Todd. 

Mrs. Hollidaygoes on, ''After 3 130, we could 
play tennis or walk. In the winter we made 
these walks very short. Instead, we would go 
to Mrs. Stearns's room, where there was a 
large open wood fire, and we would sew for 
our bazaar. Each girl felt she was welcome 
at this fireside. This was one of Mrs. Stearns's 
endearing ways. It was during the long winter 
afternoons that we would prevail on her to 
open her curio trunks, and show us the Eastern 
dresses, embroideries and souvenirs, which 
were very rare and beautiful. . . . 

"In the early spring evenings, just as we 
were retiring, we heard the Psi U songs. No- 
thing gave us more pleasure than the occasional 
serenades of the college men. In an instant 
we were up, and showering them with bou- 
quets. Someway we always knew these sere- 
nades were to take place, and no one was more 
enthusiastic than Mrs. Stearns. The only 
objection she had was that we never could 
decide amicably who should throw the flowers. 
[ 279 ] 



Life Alone 

"Then came the baseball games. All was 
excitement. Our parasols, hats and colours (we 
were always loyal to Amherst), were the absorb- 
ing thoughts for days. We had a great deal of 
fun at these games. The men we knew would 
come and surround the steps of our carriages. 
This was the nearest we ever came to driving 
with them. . . . 

"Mrs. Stearns had a wonderful influence 
over every one. There was no jealousy, envy 
or backbiting, or any of the petty vices so often 
prevalent among school girls. Her religious 
influence was deeply felt, and has remained 
with many of the girls, now women, through 
life. 

"In the fall the hills were covered with 
radiant colours. * Mountain Day' was always 
looked forward to with more real joy than any 
other hoHday.'' 

It was on the Mountain Day of 1882, the 
day before that of the college, that a famous 
escapade took place. In the words of one of 
the chief actors, "We went to Mount Holyoke, 
and, before leaving, wrote our names on a blue 
ribbon, and tied it to a stake on the summit. 
The following day the sophomore class went 

[280] 



Early Years of the School 

to Mount Holyoke, captured the ribbon, and 
the next morning as they went up the hill to 
chapel, we were electrified by the bits of blue 
in their button holes ! ... So we decided on 
blue as our colour. The gold was added 
later." 

An Amherst friend of Mrs. Stearns writes, 
"The relation of the student body to the 
school was fine and chivalrous. Every young 
man admitted to the * Convent' must be pro- 
perly introduced by parent or guardian of the 
pupil he wished to see, before he could be- 
come even a Friday evening caller; and those 
invited to the musicales and receptions, the 
annual fair, or other occasional festivities, 
were either friends of Mrs. Stearns, or, if it 
may be so expressed, hereditary acquaintances 
of the pupils. One result of this careful guard- 
ing of the girls from too casual companion- 
ships, was a mighty enhancement of the de- 
sirability of entree. To many college students 
nothing in their course was more highly prized 
than the trust and approval of Mrs. Stearns, 
evidenced by their admission to her home. 

"In the President's house, with college 
buildings close at hand, it must have been 

[281 ] 



Life Alone 

sometimes a difficult matter to maintain that 
delicate adjustment of relation, which circum- 
stances demanded, between a bevy of pretty 
girls and several hundred young men. But 
she never failed. Her situation was further 
complicated by the fact that through most of 
the eighties, and until 1894, Mrs. Stearns had 
sons in college. They lived, however, at the 
Psi Upsilon fraternity house, of which they 
were members. 

" If occasionally there was some enthusiastic 
pupil to whom this delightful wilderness of 
youths was new and intoxicating, so that she 
was inclined to overstep bounds of strictest 
propriety in the delights of sub rosa flirtation, 
no one outside heard or knew of it; and the 
offender, after an intimate talk with the dearest 
of mentors, must have felt that to be forgiven 
and helped by Mrs. Stearns was positive as- 
surance and guarantee for future perfection." 

Such were Mrs. Stearns's relations to the 
college students, formal indeed, so far as the 
school was concerned. But to the men as her 
sons' friends, she was the "valued adviser and 
dear friend." They felt instinctively her su- 
perior judgment, her power of discerning the 

[282] 



Early Years of the School 

right in a tangled situation, and her abiHty to 
help them choose the right when once it was 
shown them. What she was to them as a friend 
is best expressed in their own words. 

"I first had the pleasure of meeting Mrs. 
Stearns during the opening months of my 
sophomore year. From that time on, through 
my college course, I saw her frequently, both 
in and out of her home. There was about her 
a motherhness that drew the boy who was away 
from home naturally to her. I remember so 
well her quiet dignity and self-poise, her spon- 
taneous interest in all that occupied the atten- 
tion of the young people about her, her un- 
affected genuineness, her frank kindliness. 

"And now that my college days are receding 
into a past which the calendar says is already 
distant, I find the memory of her is one of the 
most vivid recollections of that happy time. 
After a period of many years, during which I 
saw her only once or twice, I was again brought 
into association with her. The physical change 
was great, for the infirmities of age were upon 
her, but she was the same Mrs. Stearns, alert, 
and vigorous in mind, affectionate, living in her 
children and in the wide circle of men and 

[283] 



Life Alone 

women, older and younger, who had been her 
boys and girls in earlier days. She never grew 
old in spirit. The many trials and sorrows 
that fell to her lot only ripened and sweetened 
the beautiful nature, so that her old age was 
a mellowed youth, and at the end of life, as 
in its prime, she was still the interested com- 
panion, the sympathetic friend, of everyone 
who had the privilege of knowing her." 

Again : *' Her great wisdom in handling the 
girls under her care, and the college boys who 
were her sons' friends, and who were proud 
to look to her as their friend, was a constant 
source of wonder. She trusted the men whom 
she honoured with her friendship, and this very 
trust made them more manly and worthy of 
her confidence. . . . When her dearest ones 
were taken from her . . . even in her own 
grief she was a tower of strength to those of us 
who were in trouble ourselves." 

Again : "My mind's eye holds distinctly and 
gratefully the image of Mrs. Stearns. . . . 
Mental breadth and alertness united with 
warm human sympathies to make the world 
widely-horizoned and' endlessly interesting to 
her. It followed that she was delightful in con- 

[284] 



Early Years of the School 

versation. ... I feel sure that many college men 
count their acquaintance with Mrs. Stearns, 
and the open door of her gracious home, as one 
of the best of the good providences of their 
Amherst days.'' 

Mrs. Stearns was often a mediator between 
the men and girls, as her sponsorship in sev- 
eral love affairs proves. 

Harold had returned from his long voyage, 
apparently well. He had been only a short time 
in Amherst, however, when the serious symp- 
toms reappeared. He went west to remain, 
studying medicine in Kansas City and Denver. 
Arthur was sent to Andover, to prepare for 
college, and entered Amherst in the fall of 
1884. 

Meanwhile Annie, who showed no signs of 
tuberculosis until a year after Ethel's death, 
was taken ill. At the first suspicion. Miss 
Kittredge took her to Florida. This was in the 
late winter of 1884. The trip did not seem to 
benefit her. She grew steadily worse during 
the summer. The school began as usual in the 
fall of 1884. Of the five remaining children, 
Harold was in the west, Arthur was a freshman 
in college, Alfred had been taken to Florida, 

[285] 



Life Alone 

Mabel was in school at home, and Annie, also 
at home, was now confined to her bed. Unlike 
Ethel, she suffered untold agony, her heart as 
well as lungs being affected. 

It would seem as though no human being 
could bear such burdens as rested upon Mrs. 
Stearns. But when is added the fact that her 
own health was in a precarious state, and her 
eyes giving her constant trouble, so that any 
one else would have been a hopeless invalid, 
what she accomplished is indeed incredible. 
Her heart wrung with anguish — unable to 
help her child, whose sufferings were growing 
more intense every day, she was obliged to take 
to her bed herself. She heard all her recita- 
tions from September to Christmas, 1884, on 
her back. 

The girls could come to her just as usual. 
She seemed surrounded with a sublime peace. 
As always, she was the tender sympathizer 
with all their trifling mishaps. 

On the fourth of March, 1885, at the age of 
sixteen, Annie died. All the girls remained in 
the house. Mrs. Stearns rose to greater and 
greater heights of serenity. "She did not allow 
a curtain to be drawn down, nor any crape to 

[ 286 ] 



Early Years of the School 

be placed on the door. To the girls she said, 
'I do not wish the school lessons to be inter- 
rupted, nor the piano closed. Our dear one 
has only gone to a more beautiful home, and 
we cannot weep for her. She has gone to her 
father. He will be there to greet her.' 

"Were this calmness and peace unnatural ? 
No ! not for one who walked so close with God, 
and who lived every day and in all circum- 
stances the religion she professed. . . . 

"Never have I witnessed such a triumph 
of soul over heart sorrow as shown in her per- 
fect peace and absolute trust in the infinite love 
that was back of the severe chastening. It was 
not stoicism, though those who did not know 
her might call it such, nor was her calmness 
assumed, when she met with others, but it was 
simply her anchor-hope, which no storms 
. . . could move.'' 



[287] 



IV 

Amherst Activities 

The anxieties of these heart-breaking years, 
the responsibiHties of running her, now, large 
school, of meeting her own teaching appoint- 
ments, of caring for her children, and of her 
perfect housekeeping, were not apparent. Her 
Amherst friends never guessed that she was 
over busy, or had duties more exacting than 
those of other women. Of what she was to the 
town of Amherst we can best judge by the fol- 
lowing appreciation, written by a fellow towns- 
woman and dear friend. 

" In the midst of a simple New England col- 
lege town, Mrs. Stearns established a gracious, 
cosmopolitan centre. Homesick at times she 
must have been — not only for the husband 
and children who had already gone onward 
into the unknown, but even for the details of 
that far different environment from which she 
had come, a life briUiant with all the glamour 
of the East, whose everyday incidents, when 

[288] 



Amherst Activities 

she could be induced to speak of them, sounded 
like actual chapters from the Arabian Nights. 
From the splendour of the Orient she passed 
to the plainer life of a small college town, the 
same sweet, unspoiled, forceful, cultivated 
woman who had so profoundly impressed the 
society of Bombay. 

"Almost at once she had become one of the 
moving spirits in Amherst, always on the side 
of betterment, genuinely interested, despite 
continued personal bereavement, in all that 
pertained to town and college. 

"Unconsciously to herself she broadened the 
outlook of all with whom she came in contact. 
Wider horizons dawned gradually in narrow 
lives, eyes unexpectedly opened to larger things, 
not only in details of daily living, but in mental 
attitude and toleration of what to them was 
new. Routine had never cramped her own 
outlook. 

"Frequently Mrs. Stearns was called the 
'first citizen of Amherst.' Her standards be- 
came a fixed quantity for comparison. For 
years, frequent and heartbreaking losses kept 
her enveloped in crape. But it was her only 
sign of grief. Always her face was serene and 

[289] 



Life Alone 

cheerful, her greeting genial, her response to 
another's happiness as heartfelt as if no cloud 
had ever dimmed the sunshine of her own blue 
sky. 

"In the long veil and handsome sealskin 
cloak which spoke of more opulent years, she 
would have bestowed distinction on any com- 
munity; and her dignified presence in the vil- 
lage streets became familiarly welcome — 
always a commanding and distinguished figure. 

" Of the girls who came to her ' home-school ' 
for education with her own daughters, sadly 
reduced by death from three to one, all felt her 
inspiring uplift, her optimistic attitude, her 
tenacious and unswerving hold upon all high 
planes of thought. Her spirit never faltered 
in its celestial lift. 

"Rough manners, were there any in a new 
pupil, softened under her influence to all the 
externals of ladyhood. The simple elegance 
of her table took for granted the familiarity of 
all with the proprieties of the world at large, 
and the furnishings of her house — carved 
teak, Persian rugs, Eastern embroideries — 
accustomed pupils and visitors alike to an 
unusual and picturesque setting. 
[ 290 ] 



Amherst Activities 

"While entering heartily into the cheerful 
young life about her, conducting classes most 
inspiringly, and doing her part bravely and 
unshrinkingly in town and church, all aspects 
of the inner life of Mrs. Stearns, her sadness, 
her memories, the hopes still left, were for her- 
self alone. She never asked sympathy, or ob- 
truded the slightest suggestion that the present 
was in any way a different experience from her 
delightful life in Paris, or the almost regal 
years in India. 

"Sacrifice of herself was constant and in- 
stinctive. One instance will illustrate. 

"When, during a certain period, the girls 
seemed unusually gay and conscious of the 
proximity of the dominant sex, she quietly 
withdrew, permanently, her pewfuls of bloom- 
ing maidens from the college church — that 
gift of her husband in his successful years, and 
in which are tablets in his honour and that of his 
father, for twenty-one years president of Am- 
herst College. This, her normal Sunday home, 
she left with genuine sadness; but at the village 
church, she said, there would be less to dis- 
tract the thoughts of young girls from the real 
worship of God. 

[ 291 ] 



Life Alone 

"A consistent opponent of the movement 
for woman's suffrage, she nevertheless ex- 
hibited in her own power and achievement, 
the very quaHties which in a wider and more 
pubHc position would have brought renown 
to herself and large betterment to the world. 

"During a time when the anti-suffrage 
society was seeking membership in town, her 
sympathy with the movement led her into an 
ardent house-to-house canvass in a certain sec- 
tion. Her life had been heretofore quite the 
reverse of democratic, but she was both sur- 
prised and gratified at the interesting homes 
and persons she encountered on this unusual 
excursion. 

" Elected on one occasion to the school com- 
mittee — appropriate tribute to her well-known 
interest and authoritative views in educational 
matters — she resigned at once, a consistent 
example of her life-long objection to seeing 
women occupy public office. 

"But in home and private educational lines, 
she believed, lay the true sphere of woman's 
strongest influence, and she never swerved 
from that position, despite the devotion and 
high character of many who believed in and 
[ 292 ] 



Amherst Activities 

worked for the franchise, as the first step to the 
salvation of modern conditions — a nobiHty 
of purpose which she freely acknowledged. 
It was simply not her way of aiding the up- 
lifting of womanhood. 

"Mrs. Stearns was always keenly suscep- 
tible to the best music. Well trained herself, 
she warmly appreciated thoroughness and 
good method, even more in singing than in 
pianoforte study. Nor was she less sensitive 
to quality in the speaking voice, so generally 
ignored in America. Frequent recitals of the 
best music in her home formed an entering 
wedge for a gradually rising musical standard 
in the town at large; and the presence there 
of artists of wide reputation, really helped to 
pave the way for that larger development along 
classic lines, which has come to town and col- 
lege in later years." 

Left alone as she had been, the average 
woman would have considered merely "getting 
along" all that could be expected. To Mrs. 
Stearns the problem of daily living was but 
incidental to a still constantly broadening life. 

"With a brilliant wit, beautifully sincere, the 
home-making talent in generous measure, a deep 
[ 293 ] 



Life Alone 

knowledge of girl nature and necessities, 
thorough appreciation of the artistic side of 
life, a truly religious heart and loyalty un- 
bounded, Mrs. Stearns was always vividly 
alive, not only to world matters, on which 
she was authority, but in details of every day, 
in the experiences of her friends, in the inter- 
ests of the town. 

"It was not so much what she taught the 
girls in actual text-book information, which 
made every one who left her school a finer and 
nobler woman than when she came, but the 
mere contact with so fully rounded and un- 
usual a personality was in itself a liberal edu- 
cation. 

"The town was poorer when she went; 
and to her special friends the niche will always 
remain empty where once she reigned." 

The school was growing in popularity every 
year. She was succeeding with it far beyond 
her hopes. It had become the gracious centre 
she had wished. Day scholars were begging 
admission. Mrs. Stearns accepted four or 
five, never more in any year. Dr. Bancroft, 
her brother-in-law, wTote her in 1886, "We 
rejoice that you have brought your school so 
[ 294 ] 



Amherst Activities 

handsomely forward. God has led you through 
the deep, deep waters, and I am glad the prayer 
is heard for you that your faith fail not." 

Miss Parsons had come to teach in 1886. 
In 1887 Miss Wright came, though not as a 
resident teacher. 

In the spring of 1887 Mrs. Stearns had her 
only critical illness, a sudden attack of pneu- 
monia. For a time her life was despaired of. 
She recovered, however, after but a short ab- 
sence from her school duties. 

Experiences are of avail only when their 
results are embodied in character. Even this 
illness she took joyfully, and gained from it 
inspiration for further effort. Another ob- 
stacle converted into an opportunity! 

She had gone to bed when it was winter. 
When she got up, the earth had blossomed. She 
gasped with wonder over the spring, which 
she insisted was more beautiful than ever be- 
fore. 

"Why," she exclaimed, "have I never known 
what it was to love nature ! " 

She found great happiness in the small things 
of nature. She knew there was beauty enough 
in any single landscape to rejoice the heart if 
[ 295 ] 



Life Alone 

only one wished to find it. From the early 
spring chorus of wee things stirring in the 
grass, and the marvels of an ice-crystal, to the 
fury of a great storm, all gave her keen en- 
joyment. She had sources of happiness un- 
dreamed of by small minds. Shall we ever 
forget the joy with which, in later years, she 
announced the return of the song sparrow in 
the big hedge, the first note of the cat-bird, 
or how she would rush from one window to 
another to see the northern lights .? She loved 
them for themselves, yet she felt in them a larger 
and deeper meaning. Charles Kingsley, in a 
little passage she often quoted, explains her 
attitude. 

"Do not study matter for its own sake, 
but as the countenance of God ! Try to ex- 
tract every line of beauty, every association, 
every moral reflection, every inexpressible 
feeling from it. Study the forms and colours 
of leaves and flowers, and the growth and 
habits of plants; not to classify them but to 
admire them, and adore God. Study the sky! 
Study water! Study trees! Study the sounds 
and scents of nature! Study all these, as beau- 
tiful in themselves, in order to re-combine the 

[ 296 ] 



Amherst Activities 

elements of beauty; next, as allegories and 
examples from whence moral reflections may 
be drawn; next, as types of certain tones of 
feeling. . . . It is a great cause for thankful- 
ness that we can appreciate all this ! How it 
adds to the joy of living, and also to the sense 
of God's love for all his creatures ! '' 

Harold had been for four years a practising 
physician in Colorado. He had married one 
of Mrs. Stearns's pupils in 1885, and had two 
children. During this time he was apparently 
perfectly well. Removing to a less stimulating 
climate, the tuberculosis contracted possibly ten 
years before broke forth suddenly, reached a 
climax, and Harold died on the fourth of July, 
1890. One of the most remarkable achieve- 
ments in Mrs. Stearns's life is a comment 
upon the care which she gave her girls. Not 
one pupil ever contracted tuberculosis in her 
school! 

Amherst was electing a new president. 
He would need the President's House. Mrs. 
Stearns was now obliged to leave the family 
home and begin again. The more hardship, 
the more capable of enduring it she steadily 
became. The winter after Harold's death she 
[ 297 ] 



Life Alone 

chose her new home, which became the well- 
known "Convent" of later days. During the 
following summer she moved. The house was 
ready for the beginning of the school year, 
1 89 1. Of her three children now left, only 
Mabel was at home. Arthur was teaching, 
and Alfred had entered college in the fall of 
1890. 

An illuminating incident occurred during 
the period just after moving. It was Saturday 
morning, at the end of a long, busy week, 
when Mrs. Stearns was particularly fatigued. 
One of the girls wanted to tack up some pic- 
tures in her room. She went upstairs to the 
big closet where she found Mrs. Stearns put- 
ting away linen. 

"Mrs. Stearns," she asked, "do you know 
where the hammer is .? " 

"I think it must be in the cellar," was the 
reply, "I'll go right down and see." And it 
was only with difficulty that she was persuaded 
not to hurry off in search of it ! 

Mrs. Stearns's attitude toward life precluded 
the possibility of such faults as envy, jealousy, 
worldly ambition or selfishness of any sort. 
Are our desires to be somewhere else than 

[298] 



Amherst Activities 

where we are, to have something else than what 
we have, to do something else than what we 
do, her desires ? Did she wonder whether she 
was getting the consideration she deserved ? 
Expecting deference, was she hurt at any trifle 
she failed to receive ? Can we measure her by 
the world's standards ? 

Mrs. Stearns had always considered the in- 
clinations of the rest of mankind, rather than 
her own : on the New England farm where the 
good of the individual was secondary to that 
of the family; in subordinating her wishes to 
those of the aunt by whose kindness she was 
enabled to go to school in Cambridge; in her 
married life, or supremely, in that longer period 
when children and adopted children depended 
upon her joyously-given devotion. 

I love to contemplate her! A bird far, far 
up just sailed majestically past without a 
flutter. His flight is as easy for him as for the 
sparrows of the underbrush to find grubs. 
Should we be jealous if some persons are like 
that ? And envy them their effortless progress 
through the upper air } 



[ 299 ] 



Life Alone 

"Angelic woman! past my power to praise 
"In language meet thy talents, temper, mind, 

"Thy solid worth, thy captivating grace, 

"Thou friend and ornament of human kind. 

** Listen! It is not sound alone, *t is sense, 
"'T is genius, taste and tenderness of soul; 

" 'T is genuine warmth of heart without pretense, 
"And purity of mind that crowns the whole." 



[ 300 ] 



V 

Later Years of the School 

To us who entered Mrs. Stearns's school in 
its later years, came, perhaps, a fuller revela- 
tion of the sweetness and power of her life 
than to those who knew her before she had 
reached the acme of heroism, before sorrow 
had tested the depths of her nature. Such a 
flood of memories rushes over me ! There seems 
to be not one noble trait of character which she 
did not possess. This is the danger in trying 
to describe so great a character. The tempta- 
tion is to give it all the virtues, without differen- 
tiating those peculiar to it, and to make it, not 
an individual, but a catalogue of virtues. But 
I have searched in vain for offsetting faults. 

Each slightest incident reveals something of 
her personality just as truly as the most gen- 
eral sketch which tries to include everything 
in a characteristic phrase. How vividly we 
remember her as she sat at dinner, crumbHng 
her little slice of Swedish brown-bread, or 
[ 301 ] 



Life Alone 

reading us the Springfield Republican — inter- 
esting us in foreign world movements of which 
we might never have heard but for her! I 
remember her broadminded approval of the 
English during the Boer war, that delicate sub- 
ject which so many families handled with white 
gloves — if they dared approach it at all. 

We picture her as she sat at the grand piano- 
forte every morning after breakfast, playing 
for us to sing "Awake my soul, and with the 
sun," "Love divine," "Eternal Father, strong 
to save," or "Immanuel." Or on Sunday 
evenings when we might choose our favourite 
hymns from Mr. Glezen's book, and sing as 
long as our ambitious voices lasted. One of 
the girls wrote Mrs. Stearns on her seventieth 
birthday: "The dearest hour of our Sunday 
at school was when you used to play hymns 
for us. . . . As the years go by, those memo- 
ries are ever more precious. Don't think, Mrs. 
Stearns, that the lessons which you taught us 
then are all forgotten. You often had cause for 
discouragement, but you did not know how 
your words and example would remain in our 
minds long after we had left you and the dear 
* Convent.' You and your teaching have been 
[ 302 ] 



Later Years of the School 

the most powerful influence for good in my 
life. Your girls rise up to call you Blessed/' 

Or, we picture her as wx repeated with 
quaking voices La Fontaine's fables in the big 
school-room, or as she taught us philosophy, 
or interpreted the Bible in her own room, on 
Sunday afternoons, or read aloud the one hun- 
dred and nineteenth Psalm. 

Can we not see her as she sat every evening 
after supper in her great arm-chair, under 
the standing lamp in the library, reading to us 
the Sun Maid or the White Seal, John Halifax, 
Gentleman, Young Mrs, Jardine, Ramona or 
The Sowers, while the girls clustered about do- 
ing fancy-work for the fair .? 

The books which she selected for us to hear 
were those which would both interest us and 
give us an insight into high motives and ideals. 
Mrs. Stearns never became a slave to books 
with all sorts of imaginary obligations to them. 
They were made for enjoyment, as people 
were made to be loved. 

Or is our clearest remembrance of her as 
she started up town in her long, black veil, 
followed at a respectful distance by majestic 
Jet, meeting Mrs. Tuckerman on her way 

[ 303 ] 



Life Alone 

home, and walking up and down with her to 
the end of the pavement till almost mail time ? 
Or is it as she sat rocking and reading to us our 
favourite books when we were ill in bed ? No 
detail is too small to express her, and she is 
expressed in each one. 

Everything in the school routine was ar- 
ranged for the least irksome good of the scholars. 
After breakfast at 7 130 we had prayers, then a 
walk, — always two girls together ; recitations, 
study and practice, beginning at nine. At 10 130 
we had either milk or apples. At twelve we all 
trooped to Mrs. Stearns's room to receive our 
mail. At 12 130 we had dinner. From 1 130 to 4 
we had recitations, and then we walked or 
played tennis till supper at six. She read to us 
till 7 130, we studied an hour, had gymnastics 
in the school-room, crackers and milk in the 
pantry, and put out our lights at ten. 

On Wednesdays the whole school joined in 
rather a different programme. We had dicta- 
tion, mental arithmetic — our triumph or our 
despair! — spelling, "critical readings'' of 
American authors and our gymnastic lesson, 
for which we all practised fifteen minutes every 
day during the week. 

[ 304 ] 



Later Years of the School 

Mrs. Stearns was very apt to spend the 
evenings with her Swedish servants. Knut, 
her Swedish man, whom we knew in the later 
years, said, "She took such an interest in us 
all ! After the dishes were done she would often 
come out into the kitchen and sit in thd big 
rocking chair and read EngHsh with us — we 
were all but a short time over. I never had 
anybody so kind to me in all my life as Mrs. 
Stearns. She was always so." 

Two girls entertained the school on Friday 
evenings, except once in the month, when the 
older girls were allowed to have their callers, 
certified, so to speak, college students. Some 
of these parties were very ingenious, all of them 
delightful. On Saturday morning we arranged 
our bureau-drawers, did our mending, and then 
went in two divisions up town, where we had 
one thrilling opportunity of going into the 
shops, — to us a most impressive rite, and a 
privilege to be profoundly grateful for! After 
dinner we had "missionary hour" when we 
sewed for the fair. Then we might drive with 
Miss Kittredge or Miss Parsons, or amuse 
ourselves as we liked till supper time. The 
evening passed as usual. 

[ 305 ] 



Life Alone 

On Sunday morning we studied our Bible 
lesson, and went to church. We were all to go 
to church, either with Mrs. Stearns to the Con- 
gregational, or with one of the other teachers 
to the Episcopal church. Nobody must be kept 
from going, the maids by their work, or the 
girls by a makeshift headache. This was one 
of the strictest rules. (Another was punctuality 
at meals. For being late there was no penalty 
except one's own unfailing loss of self-respect.) 
We went to dear Mrs. Stearns's Bible class 
after dinner, then passed a quiet afternoon, 
sometimes going, a select few at a time, to 
vespers at the college church; and hymns 
closed the day. 

Even more than the school routine, the days 
that she gave up to our pleasure show her wise 
indulgence. She allowed us to go to the col- 
lege gymnastic exhibitions, some lectures and 
baseball games, yet the number of such func- 
tions was so discreetly limited that the girls 
looked forward to them as the dearest excite- 
ments of the year. There was just enough in- 
tercourse allowed with the college men, not 
enough, however, to neutralize the old proverb 
that distance lends enchantment. 

[ 306 ] 



Later Years of the School 

Can we ever forget the Mountain Days ? In 
autumn, when we drove through Mill Valley, 
past the house with D K written on the roof, 
which profound riddle it was my never-ending 
shame not to have guessed alone, through the 
Notch and the Devil's Garden, inhabited then 
by dainty white asters and powdery golden-rod, 
on to South Hadley and up the other side of 
Mount Holyoke, taking the inclined railway to 
the top ? And then the fun as the barges stopped 
at Titan's Pier, the great cliffs above the Con- 
necticut, and we set the table, and forgot the 
scurry we had had to cut all the bread and 
make all the sandwiches fit in the box before 
starting (for Mountain Day could never be se- 
lected until blue sky indicated perfect weather 
in the early morning) ? And later, when we 
bowled through Hadley Street on our way 
home toward dark, and sang all the old songs 
— when we were not in the village ! — and 
came in tired but happy as larks ? 

Then there was the Saturday in late March 
before the snow was all gone, when we went to 
Plum Trees for a " sugaring-off " in true old- 
fashioned style. How we burrowed under the 
hay in the big barns, and watched the sap in 

[ 307 ] 



Life Alone 

the great ten-foot tin pan bubble up over a fire 
of whole trees ! And how we ate the maple-wax 
on snow at supper time, and baking-powder 
biscuits, and large pickles! 

We passed our spring Mountain Day in the 
silent hills toward the north, where the deeply- 
hidden Toby stream tumbled down over its 
mossy rocks, the columbines and maiden-hair 
fern balanced on their trembling stems, and 
the rare Louisiana water-thrush tilted up and 
down. We used to think how wonderful it was 
that he should be here when he is found no 
where else in the vicinity — here, the only part 
of the hills we visited ! There was not a grow- 
ing or singing thing, not a wisp of cloud in the 
farthest sky that did not delight dear Mrs. 
Stearns, and tempt her to show it to us — for 
she hated to have us miss what had given her 
pleasure. It is precious to know that she loved 
nature so. 

Of far another kind was the enjoyment we 
had in the concert which Mr. Tucker and other 
artists gave at Mrs. Stearns's house in the 
spring, and the musicale a week later — cruel 
contrast! — when all his quaking pupils per- 
formed. The fair, for which we had been sew- 

[308] 



Later# Years of the School 

ing all winter, or indeed, since the previous 
fair, was the most exciting event of all. For to 
this were invited not only all of Amherst, but 
certain favoured students as well. Ladies, who 
would be liable to add materially to the funds, 
were invited in the afternoon, the less desirable 
students came in the evening for the candy and 
eatables, left-overs and certain Httle carefully 
designated objects which had not appeared 
in the afternoon, value not to exceed twenty- 
five cents ! The proceeds of this fair Mrs. 
Stearns divided between the McCall Mission 
and India, where it was sent for the education 
of the very little widows whom we had heard 
about in story-telling time, or during mission- 
ary hour on Saturday afternoons. Mrs. Stearns 
so enthused us all with the missionary fervour, 
that I distinctly remember one girl who washed 
three other girls' hair in an afternoon, gaining 
forty-five cents for the missionary box. 

Certain much appreciated privileges were 
given us. Were we "old girls," Mrs. Stearns 
allowed us to choose our room-mate, or mates, 
for the coming year. Did we realize her kind 
forbearance with our "initiation,'' letting us 
sit up on that eventful night until eleven 
[ 309 ] 



Life Alone % 

o'clock, her actual anxiety over the woes of 
the thousand and one Greek letter and other 
secret societies, with which the school spas- 
modically swarmed ? She did not laugh at 
them — they were more important to us than 
the whole Chinese-Japanese war — nor, on the 
contrary, did she allow us to go too far. On 
one occasion we were to have a double wed- 
ding. The altar had been decorated, the orange 
blossoms, even, arranged. Just as the nuptial 
march on combs had begun, Mrs. Stearns dis- 
covered the trend of affairs, and forbade the 
sacrilege. 

Much has been said of Mrs. Stearns as a 
mother. And a mother she wished primarily 
to be. But she was a gifted teacher. Who of 
us who heard her explain the inner signifi- 
cance of Bible stories and the life of Christ 
can ever forget the special force with which 
they were impressed upon us .? 

And she had the greatest of all the teach- 
er's gifts — that of giving confidence in their 
own ideas to her pupils. One day in philo- 
sophy class we were discussing free-will, and 
were getting much confused. Mrs. Stearns 
said, "Great philosophers, girls, cannot un- 
[ 310 ] 



Later Years of the School 

derstand this subject." "But/ can," piped up 
one enthusiast, and we all solemnly listened to 
her exposition of the subject. 

Mrs. Stearns's quiet little sense of humour 
let us out of many tight places. On one occa- 
sion there had been some shocking misde- 
meanour. The culprits waited a long time — 
much longer than excusable — before acquaint- 
ing Mrs. Stearns with the full extent of their 
guilt. When the confession was over, she 
looked at them gravely and asked, "Is that 
all ^ " They felt that no conceivable punish- 
ment would be too severe. "Yes, Mrs. Stearns." 
. . . "You may go now." 

To each girl Mrs. Stearns gave a specific 
object to struggle for, its calibre perfectly 
suited to the individual, sometimes summed 
up in a word. Her range of selection was as 
wide as her knowledge of human nature, for the 
watchwords might be "Leave time enough!" 
or "Human kindness!" 

She encouraged us to work out problems for 
ourselves, even though they had been solved 
a thousand times over, or a thousand years 
ago. She gave self-confidence to the shy girl, 
and to the over-confident she taught the grace 

[311] 



Life Alone 

of consideration for other people. From each 
she drew the best, and put the best interpre- 
tation on what she did; and Mrs. Stearns was 
never slow to change her opinion of a girl 
when a disagreeable trait, once shown, had 
ceased to characterize her. 

She did not compare excellences, which 
would not admit of comparison, nor discount 
one girl's best because it was another's start- 
ing point. " Because the eagle can fly higher, it 
does not follow that the gnat cannot fly at all ! " 

Unlike such large numbers of virtuous New 
Englanders, who are perfect, — or would be 
if they did not think they were, — and scorn 
the rest of the world on that account, Mrs. 
Stearns could tolerate a point of view diff"ering 
from her own. She did not share the inhuman 
attitude of the quick New Englander, who says 
of a wrong-doer, "How stupid of him! What 
did he for ^ " Through her husband's buoyant 
nature she had learned to understand temper- 
aments unlike her own. Her foreign experience 
had broadened her sympathies. Standards, 
however, lower than hers she could not tol- 
erate, and her methods of raising them were 
sometimes heroic. 

[ 312 ] 



Later Years of the School 

She helped us not only in concrete, appreci- 
able ways, but in intangible, incalculable ways. 
She was a practical adviser, yet a very real 
inspiration. 

Our environment there enabled us to appre- 
ciate the value of good taste. Mrs. Stearns's 
standard was accepted as ours in other things 
as well as in taste. Her character was un- 
consciously adopted as our model. She per- 
sonifies to us all those qualities which we have 
seen embodied in her. We know that trust 
and strength to face anything that the world 
calls bereavement can exist, because we have 
known her living example. For a young girl to 
have such a visible ideal gives her the assur- 
ance that it is possible of attainment. 

Yet, as has been said of another great wo- 
man, she had small desire to re-make the 
characters of others into her own likeness; 
seeking rather to find some hidden virtue in 
them which she might develop into a lovely 
fabric of finer texture, possibly, than her own. 

Nothing can more beautifully show her love 
for her girls than a letter she wrote them just 
after a reunion, at Amherst, of all her former 
pupils. It is dated, — 

[ 313 ] 



Life Alone 

" November i, 1898. 

"My dear Girls: 

" It will be impossible for me ever to express 
half the joy which our delightful reunion caused 
me. To look into your faces once more, to hear 
your expressions of loyalty to the school, to be 
made sure that you were acting well your part 
in life, all this caused me the deepest happi- 
ness. 

"And then the beautiful gift which followed 
our pleasant meeting together! How can I 
sufiiciently thank you for it .? I look at it con- 
stantly with delight, feeling sure that it ex- 
presses the love of my dear girls. How could 
you have guessed that I greatly desired to pos- 
sess the complete works of George Eliot ? 

"I have never realized, as fully as now, 
how rich my own life has been. To love you 
all, to rejoice in your happiness, to enter with 
deep sympathy into your sorrows, to follow 
every step in your lives with loving interest, is 
not this an experience for which to be truly 
grateful .? And all this has come to me through 
what the world calls — misfortune! How 
safely may we trust our lives to the care of a 
loving Heavenly Father, feeling sure that the 
[3H] 



Later Years of the School 

seeming misfortunes may prove the richest 
blessings. 

"And now may the dear Father bless you 
all. It is a great grief to me that I am too busy 
to write you often, but I never forget you. 
And I am very happy to have you write to tell 
me of any new experience of joy or sorrow. 

"As it will be impossible for me to write 
you separately, may I ask you to kindly for- 
ward this letter to the person whose name 
follows your own on the list which I enclose. 
** Always affectionately yours, 

"Mary E. Stearns." 

There were few changes in the school. 
Miss Wright had left. Her place was taken 
by Miss Bigelow or Miss Crowell. Miss Becker 
came to relieve Miss Kittredge of the work in 
German. 

Bereavement never left Mrs. Stearns for 
long. In 1896 her brother, Dr. Kittredge, died, 
and in 1898 her sister, Mrs. Bancroft. At the 
time of Mrs. Bancroft's death she wrote, "For 
those who are gone, all is well, but we must 
still be anxious for the living, and long that 
they may act their part well. 

[315] 



Life Alone 

"That Fannie is really gone from us seems 
like a dream. Let us thank God that she 
lived so well and that we have only blessed 
memories and joyful anticipations. . . . 

" Poor Mr. Bancroft ! My heart goes out in 
deepest sympathy to him, for I know what 
the loss of that sweet companionship means. 
The process of becoming accustomed to the 
loneliness is long and painful." 

And again : "Could we bear these separations 
from our dear ones did we not feel sure that we 
shall meet them again ? . . . We can trust 
it all to a loving Heavenly Father who has 
not given us these strong affections to be finally 
disappointed.'' 

Of her own family Miss Minnie Kittredge 
was the only one remaining. 



[316] 



VI 

closing of the School, and Death 

On the twenty-eighth of June, 1900, Mrs. 
Stearns's daughter, Mabel, was married to 
Harvey F. Noble of Colorado Springs. "Peo- 
ple will think I am extravagant," said Mrs. 
Stearns, as she looked at the beautiful trous- 
seauy "but Mabel is my only daughter! She 
shall have her wedding just as she wants it." 

"As for the girls," — who returned for the 
occasion, — "they must all be in the house," 
and they were, twenty-four of them ! 

The wedding was held in the evening, in the 
college church. It was a memorably beautiful 
occasion. Dr. Bancroft of Andover performed 
the ceremony. A large reception was held at 
the house afterwards. 

As soon as Mrs. Stearns could leave, she 
went to First Connecticut Lake to spend the 
summer. Three lakes are the source of the 
Connecticut River, far up on the Canadian 
border. The largest, where Metallak Camp 

[317] 



Life Alone 

is situated, settles down among the hills, 
covered with unbroken forests, where bubbling 
trout-streams, half over-grown with moss, 
tumble along under the black spruce woods — 
or, flecked with sunshine, glide between tall 
black and yellow birches. One sits on a little 
sheltered beach to watch the low-lying clouds 
rush along over the choppy lake, or paddles 
in a canoe over the glassy surface, hearing the 
hermit thrushes or clear whistle of the pea- 
body bird, the sharp bark of a fox on the 
wooded shore, or the weird laugh of a loon 
from over the lake. Suddenly there is a stam- 
pede of ducks, their footprints leaving an 
ever widening wake across the water. Great 
blue herons stalk about in secluded corners, 
little sand-pipers run along the beach, rare 
warblers and partridges fill the woods, and at 
night the deer come out to graze upon crisp 
lily-pads in the inlets. 

The summer here would have given Mrs. 
Stearns perfect happiness — it did give her 
peace — except for the anxiety she felt about 
the following year. For a long time her friends 
had been urging her to give up the school. 
It had been a success, — "due to God's bless- 

[318] 



Closing of the School, and Death 

ing," — her children were carefully brought 
up, and now settled in life; Mabel married, 
Arthur married, and teaching in Lakewood; 
Alfred engaged to be married, and his uncle's 
assistant at Phillips-Andover Academy. Why 
should she continue ? Her own health, which 
had never been vigorous, seemed now to de- 
mand rest. But it was very hard to make the 
decision. 

She had written from Amherst to Miss Kit- 
tredge, who had been caring for their bro- 
ther's family in Fishkill-on-the-Hudson, since 
his death, in 1896, — 

"It has been a restful, peaceful Sunday, 
and the religious aspect of the crisis through 
which I am passing has been uppermost in my 
thoughts. I feel so sure that God is guiding 
me, perhaps to a much needed rest. ... I 
have often wondered if I did not care too much 
for this home. It had been the dream of my 
whole married life, and it came so late, and 
was partly the fruit of my own exertions. 
I love my books, — many of them connected 
with Will, — I love the artistic ornaments, many 
of them the gifts of my dear girls. I love the 
grounds, the distant views, and cannot give 

[ 319 ] 



Life Alone 

them up without a pang. If they attach my 
soul too strongly to this world, and to all that 
perishes, let them go, if only it will be the 
easier to go on to the next stage of existence, 
where I am sure the love of the beautiful will 
be more deeply met than even here." 

To give it up seemed best, — and so the school 
did not reopen in the fall of 1900. 

The years which elapsed between the closing 
of the school and Mrs. Stearns's death were 
a happy memory of various visits and long, 
restful hours at Metallak, where she basked 
in the cool northern summer sun. 

The story of these years is told by Mrs. Noble. 

"I think many of mother's best friends 
wondered what she would do with her life 
after the close of her school, how she could 
give up the work around which all her inter- 
est had centred for twenty-three years. . . . 
In a letter dated September, 1900, she tells 
me of her intention of giving up the school 
and the house. *I hope I may make the change 
cheerfully. When I think of my being left 
with seven children, and no money, and how 
I longed to be able to do for them all that your 
father would have done, . . . when I remem- 
[ 320 ] 



Closing of the School, and Death 

ber that I have done all this, my heart is filled 
with gratitude to the dear Father who has led 
me thus far, and I will trust Him for my future, 
though it be not as I had planned.' . . . 

"Who even guessed what it cost to give up 
her home ? . . . How many times have I 
heard her say, *If I might only have a tiny 
cottage somewhere, and have with me my 
books and my Indian things, and make a little 
nest for myself!' Yet always it was said with 
a smile, knowing that it could not be." 

Mrs. Stearns spent the greater part of the 
year in Amherst with Madame Stearns. She 
wrote to her sister. Miss Kittredge : — 

"Amherst, October 28, 1900. 
"My dear Minnie: — You will, I know, 
be anxious to hear of my leaving the home, 
and of my being settled at mother's. The work 
at the house was terrible, and seems to me 
like a horrid night-mare. I managed to leave 
on Thursday afternoon as I planned, though 
Knut, Mrs. Hoar and I were obliged to go 
back the next afternoon to put things in better 
order. I had a little fire in the furnace, and 
have escaped, so far, without a cold. My 
[ 321 ] 



Life Alone 

reception at mother's was very warm; there 
were flowers in my room, and I know that 

both mother and N were glad that I had 

come. 

" I am surprised at myself that ... I felt no 
regret at leaving my beautiful home. It seemed 
delightful to lay aside the care of it. . . . Just 
now I do not feel that I shall ever care to re- 
turn, but my feelings may entirely change 
before the year is gone. ... As in all the 
crises in my life, I seem to feel underneath 
me the everlasting arms, and to have had a 
strength more than human given me. My heart 
is so full of gratitude to the dear Heavenly 
Father who has given me strength to accom- 
plish the work which I set out to do, after 
Will was taken from me, that I must feel sure 
that He will guide me to the end." In De- 
cember she wrote again, "Rest is still very- 
delicious." 

Mrs. Noble continues, "I believe no one 
who saw her that winter was not surprised at 
the ease and grace which she displayed in be- 
ing able to lay down, without a murmur, one 
line of work and to take up another so totally 
different. Did she lose her interest in life or 
[ 322 ] 



Closing of the School, and Death 

in people ? Did she sit with folded hands and 
consider that at last life was to be one long 
vacation ? Far from it. Her letters that win- 
ter are full of her interests, the people she saw, 
the new friendships formed, the old ones made 
more fast because she now had more time to 
conscientiously give them, her ever broadening 
outlook on life, her deep interest in her girls, 
many of whom wrote her of their life-secrets, 
joys, ambitions, loves. Those who were mar- 
ried while she was still strong enough to write, 
will, I am sure, treasure always the words sent 
to them at that time. I am confident she let 
them look into the depths of her great, lov- 
ing heart as she told them of her own happy 
marriage.'' 

Mrs. Stearns once wrote to one of her chil- 
dren, "It grieves me that I was able to do so 
little to keep your father in the minds of you 
children, and I trust that the letters which 
you will have later will help you to appreciate 
his character, which was above all deeply reli- 
gious.'* With this in mind, Mrs. Noble's next 
words show how different was the fact ! 

"We, her children, heard his name so often 
from her lips that it seemed almost as if he still 
[ Z^Z ] 



Life Alone 

lived. To those of us who were too young, 
when he died, to remember him, she was 
always painting a faithful likeness. His hopes 
and his ambitions for his children were con- 
stantly put before us, his views of life, his 
thoughts of heaven ; bits from his letters were 
read to us, letters that he had written to his 
older children were given to us to read, * that 
you may see how he would have written to you, 
had he lived longer or you been older.' 

"After her winter in Amherst, a visit with 
her sister at Fishkill-on-the-Hudson, others 
with her sons in Andover — Alfred was now 
married — and Lakewood, she again went for 
the summer to Metallak. She had grown to 
love it dearly. The mountain air agreed with 
her. She gained in strength. 

" Many of her own family and friends came 
there for a part of the summer, some of her 
girls found their way up there, and, surrounded 
by her ever dear young people, she spent some 
of the happiest, most restful days of her life. 
I suppose it must have been the atmosphere 
in which she lived for so many years that kept 
her so young at heart. There was no time when 
she did not enter with zest into our games and 
[ 324 ] 



Closing of the School, and Death 

sports, not only giving her loving interest, but 
her presence, often, indeed, entering with the 
rest into the fun whenever she was physically 
able. Many will remember one summer in 
Amherst, when, as usual, her house was filled 
with boys and girls, and she went, reluctantly 
indeed, to seek a much needed rest in the 
Adirondacks. We expected her to be gone at 
least two weeks, and though we missed her 
sorely, we rejoiced to think that she was having 
a happy and helpful change. To our great sur- 
prise she returned at the end of one week, with 
the rather lame excuse, given with an apologetic 
smile, that she missed her young people too 
much. She would be much happier at home 
with them, and they would give her all the rest 
and change she needed. 

"Again, another summer, another rest had 
been planned for her. Her trunks and bags 
were packed. She was to leave for Boston 
the next morning, early. When morning came, 
she appeared at the breakfast table, smiling 
and triumphant! With a glance out of the 
window, she said, *I couldn't possibly start 
out in such a rain as this ! ' The trip was given 
up, not postponed. 

[ 325 ] 



Life Alone 

"Writing from Metallak in the summer of 
1 90 1, she says, 'I have been invited to go on 
a picnic this afternoon. We are going to a 
place not far from the old camp, across the 
lake, to have our supper there, and come home 
late in the evening. I shall enjoy this very 
much, and shall feel as young as any of the 
party. It is thought quite strange that at my 
age I can enjoy these excursions so much. 
Perhaps it is because I have kept up the habit 
of going with my girls, but more likely because 
of my intense love for nature.' And this after 
she had begun to fail physically, and looked so 
thin and frail. 

"Once she said to me, *When the time comes 
for me to die, I shall be ready to go,' and then 
she added, and her whole face lighted with a 
wonderful glow, *but oh, I love life!' In an- 
other letter speaking of old age, she writes, 
' How we cling to life ! Why is life here de- 
sirable when . . . dear ones are waiting for 
us ^ ' And again, * If we were living as God 
meant us to live, life here would be full of 
interest, and we should not be longing to get 
away from it.'" 

She felt that 

[ 326 ] 



Closing of the School, and Death 

"... age is opportunity, no less than youth itself, 

" Though in another dress. 
" For when the evening twilight fades away, 

"The stars come out, invisible by day." 

" She never liked to sing the hymns expressing 
a morbid desire to leave this life for a paradise 
of rest. Those who knew her well, feel that 
that was really the cornerstone of her character. 
Life! truly did she love it, its opportunities, 
its many spheres for work, its interests, people 
to be helped, uplifted, broadened ; in her school 
young characters to form. 

"The plans for her coming west were now 
completed. In answer to my letter, in which 
I suggested meeting her in Chicago, she wrote, 
*Why, my dear child, I am not a silly, selfish 
woman who must be cared for like a baby, 
and petted and entertained like a small child ! 
So be careful not to do too much for me, else 
I shall be running back east for fear of having 
my character ruined!' 

**Oh, the sweet joy of that year, from Octo- 
ber first, 1 90 1, to October, 1902, when I was 
able to pet and spoil her to my heart's content, 
when it was my delight to see her daily gaining 
in strength under the warmth and brightness 
[ 327 ] 



Life Alone 

of our Colorado sun, and because of the clear, 
bracing air. * I am quite in love with the place,' 
she said, * and would like to take a cottage and 
spend the remainder of my life here'; adding, 
'Colorado is so like dear Matheran! Moun- 
tain air I always love.' In the mornings we 
took long drives. In the afternoons we went 
to see friends, or they came to us, for here, 
as elsewhere, she had her dear friends, and it 
was strange, though perhaps not so strange 
after all, that they were mostly younger women 
and girls who found in her, as her own school 
girls had done, that same ready interest in 
them and their affairs. 

"In the evenings there were concerts, lec- 
tures, parties, or the quiet hours at home, when 
we could have music, or she would read to my 
husband and myself. What a tremendous 
reader she always was! How she found time 
to read the daily papers, her special magazines, 
the Outlook, World^s Work, and her many 
religious papers ! She had her hobbies always. 
. . . Her interest in missions never waned. 
[At one time she even tried to sell her diamond 
engagement ring to give more money to mis- 
sions!] During the last years she followed 

[328] 



Closing of the School, and Death 

the work of a converted Catholic, Father 
O'Connor of New York, and also that of a 
converted Jew. Her interest in the great ques- 
tions of the day increased rather than de- 
creased. Her correspondence was very heavy. 
We, her children, know how faithful she was 
in writing us, and how she enjoyed our letters 
in return. Then the letters from her dear girls. 
How she regretted that she had n't more time 
to write to them all ! I can see her now coming 
into my room, an open letter in her hand, to 
announce to me that one had a small son, or 
that another was to be married, or that still a 
third had lost her father or mother, and then 
the tone of deep tenderness with which she 
would say, * Poor girl ! I must write her at once.' 
With all these interests she found time every 
day to be with her little grandson, who at the 
time of her coming was only four months old. 
I rejoice to recall the picture they made, he 
sitting in her lap when — later in the winter 
— he had learned, through her careful instruc- 
tion, to notice the birds and flowers, pictures, 
and even the school children passing by on the 
street. 

"I shall never forget the surprise of my 

[ 329 ] 



Life Alone 

friends when I announced that mother was to 
accompany my husband and myself to the El 
Paso ball, the greatest social event of the year 
in Colorado Springs. It never occurred to 
her that it was strange. She was well enough 
to bear the excitement, and she wanted to go. 
She wanted to make new friends, to see our 
little world. Had she forgotten the many, 
many times in Amherst when she had been 
patroness at the promenades and cotillions ? 
She went to the ball, and enjoyed every minute ! 
I seated her beside a woman who, I knew, 
would tell her all about every one there. Often 
during the evening I came up to her and said, 
'Are you tired, mother.^ Do you want to go 
home ? ' She always answered in the negative, 
followed by an assurance that she was thor- 
oughly enjoying the evening. 

"At half-past two in the morning we took 
her home, tired but happy, with her circle of 
friends increased. I could write forever on 
the joysof that year, how I learned to love anew 
the strong and splendid elements in her charac- 
ter, how I never failed to find her interested in 
the smallest details of my daily life, how she 
grew always stronger in our glorious climate, 

[ 330 ] 



Closing of the School, and Death 

how she entered with her usual zest into the 
life of the church, going often twice on Sun- 
day, how in the summer of 1902, when a sum- 
mer school was started in the Garden of the 
Gods, fully five miles from here, she went once, 
sometimes twice a day to attend lectures, as- 
suring me that she gained as much good from 
the nearness to nature in that wonderful spot, 
as from the lectures themselves. 

"Then came the separation. The other 
children claimed her and I had to let her go. 
A hard, trying trip east, consisting of numer- 
ous delays and slight accidents, hastened to 
undo all the good she had gained by her year 
in Colorado. Her winter in Andover [where 
Alfred was now Principal of Phillips Acad- 
emy], and the next winter in Lakewood, were 
in one way a great disappointment to her, for 
she failed rather than gained in strength. The 
climate suited her in one place no better than 
the other. A summer at Metallak, in between 
these two visits, helped somewhat to restore 
her. 

"In Lakewood during the winter of 1903-04 
she had several serious illnesses from which we 
feared she might not recover, for the heart 

[ 331 ] 



Life Alone 

trouble, which had been present for several 
years, was increasing in severity. From each 
attack, however, she rallied in a marvellous 
manner so that she was able to enjoy her 
books, her letters and her friends. 

"In May, 1904, we began to discuss the 
subject of mother's again coming to her be- 
loved Colorado. Once she said to me, 'I 
would ask for nothing more than to spend my 
last days in Colorado and die there.' At first 
it seemed as if she never could bear the long 
journey. But when her sister said that if she 
would only get strong enough, she herself 
would bring her, the news acted like a powerful 
tonic. Though she was far from being well, 
she gained enough so that the journey was 
undertaken, and in June they came. Oh, how 
glad she was to get here ! How glad we were 
to have her! When I said to her, *Now you 
shall never move again, mother,' she seemed 
to feel a great peace. She gained slowly at first, 
but she gained. She had a doctor who was 
always, she said, *like one of my boys.' She 
had a loyal and devoted nurse, who for seven 
months gave her the best of care. Soon she 
was able to sit up in her room, then, to go 
[ 332 ] 



Closing of the School, and Death 

down stairs, though at first she was carried both 
ways. Whole hours of every day she spent 
out in her glorious sunshine. There, seated 
in a comfortable wheeled chair, she spent 
much time in reading over the letters her 
husband had written to her when she was in 
Paris, and business kept him in India. She 
said she lived over again those happy days. 
She was able to see her friends, to take some 
of her meals, at least, with the family, and 
she enjoyed a number of automobile rides." 

On the twenty-fifth of July, 1904, Mrs. 
Stearns was seventy years old. As a delightful 
surprise, she had many letters from friends 
all over the world. 

"The day before Christmas, she went with 
me to town, to do a little shopping. She did so 
enjoy seeing the crowds, feeling the Christmas 
spirit. On Christmas day itself, she came 
down to dinner, and looked so well that I 
dared to hope she might be spared to us for 
many years yet. After dinner came the tree. 
I know she enjoyed it, and her many presents, 
as much as did her three-year-old grandson. 
Many of her girls and friends contributed to 
the ^friendship calendar ' which her sister sent 
[ ?>?>?> ] 



Life Alone 

her, and they will be glad to know that she 
did not wait to read each quotation as the days 
came, but read them all that very hour, and 
again, a few days later, and was happy in the 
knowledge that so many had thought of her. 
It was such a joy to see mother's pleasure in 
her Christmas ! 

"Many times when I have had card-parties 
or receptions here, some of my friends would 
find their way up to her room. 

" I remember one such occasion vividly. She 
was dressed, and ready for her visitors. When 
they came, she must get up from her easy 
chair, and, with that sweet, courteous grace 
so characteristic of her, say to one of them, 
* Won't you take this chair ? ' It seemed as if 
it must be a gathering of her own, much- 
loved school girls. 

"Always in the afternoon she would spend 
an hour at least with her grandson, reading 
to him or entering into his little games, and 
though she slept in the afternoon, she wanted 
the nurse to open her door and have her 
dressed by five, for that was the time when, 
fresh and rosy from his bath, he would come 
to his *dear gran'ma.' 

[ 334 ] 



I 



Closing of the School, and Death 

"When, at the very last, she grew suddenly 
worse, and had, once more, to take to her bed, 
she never lost her energy of mind, nor her in- 
terest in the affairs of the day. She loved Kfe 
to the end. While waiting for her breakfast, 
she would read in the paragraph Bible, and 
then the daily paper. Only the last morning 
before she died, she said as I handed her the 
paper, *Read me the headlines. I am too tired 
to read to-day.' And when I read her about the 
riots and uprisings in Russia, she said, ' Poor 
Czar ! I am afraid he will never live through it ! ' 

"She knew she was going to die, but we 
could not beheve her. We hoped until the end. 
While she did not leave any last messages, she 
spoke of many of her loved ones, and she gave 
reasons why she felt so happy about us all. 
Her very last act was characteristic, for it was 
always she who did for others, and seldom that 
we could find the opportunity to do for her. 

"It was the twenty-fourth of January, 1905. 
She had seemed better, and the doctor thought 
she might pull through the night, and rally 
from this attack of heart-failure, as from so 
many others. He roused her from sleep to give 
her some strong stimulant, but before he could 
[ 33S ] 



Life Alone 

put his arm around her to raise her , she had, 
with wonderful energy, Hfted herself. He said, 
* You are too quick, Mrs. Stearns. You should 
have waited for me.' His only answer was 
a sweet smile — and she was gone ! She, too, 
had * penetrated the veil which hides the loved 
ones from our view.' " 

Mrs. Noble brought her body back to Am- 
herst, Mrs. Stearns's son, Alfred, meeting them 
at Chicago. Two descriptions of the funeral, 
sent to Miss Kittredge, who was prevented 
by illness from being there, follow, the first 
by Mrs. Marshall, the second by a nephew, 
Cecil Bancroft. 

''January 28, 1905. 
"Saturday morning we went early to the 
church, and spent the entire morning arranging 
the beautiful flowers which were sent by dear 
Mrs. Stearns's many friends. I can't tell you 
what a comfort it was to be there, and do the 
last small service for her whom we all loved 
and reverenced so deeply. We felt we were 
only a small delegation from the entire number 
of her girls who were thinking of her with such 

[ 336 ] 



Closing of the School, and Death 

sad and glad hearts, sad for our loss, glad for 
her great gain. 

"The church looked beautiful, with a large 
wreath of cream roses and violets over Mr. 
Stearns's memorial tablet, and a wreath of 
pink roses and lilies-of-the-valley over Presi- 
dent Stearns's tablet. 

"The casket was covered with bunches and 
sprays of lovely violets. Across the centre lay 
a few stalks of Easter lilies (the flower of the 
resurrection). At the foot of the casket lay 
Mr. Tucker's beautiful wreath of bronze-col- 
oured leaves, with a few violets to give a touch 
of sweetness. . . . She was lying beneath a 
cover of violets, and even the physical part of 
death was robbed of its sting. . . . 

"We expected to be overcome by grief, but 
for my part I thought only of the glad reunion 
above with her precious husband and children, 
and somehow through all the service the image 
came to me as she sat among the girls during 
Bible class hour with her own well-worn Bible 
in her hands. She was a blessed woman ! " 

"I found two of her girls in charge of the 
flowers at the church, which they had arranged 
[ 337 ] 



Life Alone 

very tastefully. . . . There were many beau- 
tiful wreaths, and roses, and carnations, and 
much smilax. The service advertised for 
twelve was not begun till 12:30, as the train 
from Boston was fifty minutes late. The or- 
ganist played for us while we waited, *I know 
that my Redeemer liveth,' Handel's Mes- 
siah, I think one of Mendelssohn's Songs 
without JVords, Handel's Largo, and a sweet 
and beautiful piece I cannot now recall. The 
other music consisted of two unaccompanied 
male quartettes, * Peace, perfect peace' and 
'Abide with me,' and the reading (very effect- 
ive, by President Harris) of *For all the saints 
who from their labours rest.' He also made 
a very beautiful and comforting prayer. The 
village pastor read scripture, as did also Dr. 
Preserved Smith. . . . 

*' You would have been touched to see the 
little group of Convent girls sitting together 
behind the relatives and intimate friends. . . . 

*' We left the church at about i 140 for the 
cemetery. . . . Except for the cold, the wea- 
ther was perfect, a cloudless sky, the earth 
all pure white, the beautiful hills encircling 
the town, and everywhere visible because of the 

[338] 



Closing of the School, and Death 

leafless trees. . . . About twenty went to the 
cemetery where President Harris gave the brief 
commitment service." 

And then we put her away, all repeating the 
Lord's Prayer, those of us who could, and she 
was at rest beside her husband, from whom 
she had for over thirty years been separated. 



After all, the events of Mrs. Stearns's life 
hardly seem to count. The greater part of it 
was spent in quiet New England, a round 
of daily tasks which she did not find humdrum, 
of annoying details over which she did not 
worry. 

Though her children had been carefully 
brought up, and her life work ended fortu- 
nately, her personaHty was her supreme suc- 
cess. She had lived a full-orbed life, as a wife, 
as a mother, as a teacher, as a child of God, 
and was at last " earth's noblest thing, a 
woman perfected." 

It is said that on the day of Henry Thoreau's 
funeral, while his friends were quietly sitting 
at supper, Mr. Channing suddenly leaped 

[ 339 ] 



Life Alone 

up from the table as he saw a brilHant after- 
glow illuminate the eastern clouds, exclaim- 
ing, "No, no, he is not dead! . . . He is not 
dead ! He lives in every trembling leaf and blade 
of grass ! In the glory of the sky and the beauty 
of earth which he so much loved ! '' 

Even so Mrs. Stearns lives in our hearts, 
and by tlie "power of a beautiful contagion" 
will continue to live as long as ideals exist, or 
aspiration is reality. 



[ 340 ] 



Appendix 



Appendix A 

Dates 

Mary Emmeline KIttredge, born, July 25, 1834* 

Mary Emmeline Kittredge, married, Aug. 24, 1859 

Mary Emmeline Kittredge Stearns left America for India, 

Sept. 28, 1859 
Wm. Kittredge Stearns, horn in Bombay, May 18, i860 
Mr. and Mrs. Stearns visited America, 1862 

Frazar A. Stearns, died, March 14, 1862 

Harold Stearns, horn in Bombay, May 31, 1863 

Arthur French Stearns, horn in Bombay, July 30, 1864 
Mr. and Mrs. Stearns went to Paris, 1865 

Mrs. Faithfull, died, June, 1865 

Ethel Stearns, horn in Paris, Oct. 11, 1865 

Mr. and Mrs. Stearns came to America, Nov., 1866 

Mr. and Mrs. Stearns returned to Bombay, Jan., 1867 
Mr. and Mrs. Stearns left Bombay for America, 

April 20, 1868 
Annie Kirby Stearns, horn in Orange, Nov. 6, 1868 

Mr. Stearns in Bombay, Jan.-April, 1869 

Captain Timothy Kittredge, diedy Feb. 10, 1870 

Mr. Stearns visited England, July, 1870 

Mrs. Timothy Kittredge, died, Aug. 28, 1870 

College Church corner-stone laid, Sept. 22, 1870 

Mr. and Mrs. Stearns visited Florida, March, 1871 

* The date of the birth of Mrs. Stearns, as well as of Mr. Stearns, 
is given as 1835 on their gravestones in the old West Cemetery at Am- 
herst. They were both born in 1834. 

[ 343 ] 



Appendix 

Alfred Ernest Stearns, born in Orange, June 6, 1871 

Mr. and Mrs. Stearns visited London, Sept.-Oct., 1871 
Mabel Kittredge Stearns, born in Orange, Dec. 24, 1872 
Mr. Stearns visited England, Nov., i873-Jan.,i874 

Mr. Stearns, died. May 21, 1874 

President Stearns, diedy June 8, 1876 

George Kittredge, died^ March 6, 1877 

Mrs. Stearns moved into the President's House, Aug., 1877 
Mrs. Stearns's school opened, Sept., 1877 

William Kittredge Stearns, died in Colorado Springs, 

May 12, 1881 
Ethel Stearns, died in Amherst, Oct. 15, 1882 

Annie Kirby Stearns, died in Amherst, March 4, 1885 
Harold Stearns, died in Idaho Springs, July 4, 1890 

Mrs. Stearns moved from President's House, 1891 

Dr. Charles Kittredge, died^ 1896 

Mrs. Bancroft, diedy 1 898 

Mrs. Stearns gave up the school, June, 1900 

Mary EmmeHne Kittredge Stearns, diedy Jan. 24, 1905 



[ 344] 



Appendix B 

After the death of Mrs. Stearns her girls 
wished to have a memorial which would not 
be displeasing to Mrs. Stearns herself. Among 
many things discussed was a window in the 
College Church. But we knew she would pre- 
fer that the money collected in her memory 
should accomplish some real good. We felt 
that if we could procure enough to found a 
scholarship in an Indian school, it would please 
her best. Five hundred dollars was raised 
among the teachers and girls of her school, 
chiefly owing to the exertions of Mrs. (Sophie 
Hall) Marshall, and was sent in 1906 to Ahmed- 
nagar, India, a mission in which her interest 
had already been established. 

For her girls who founded the scholarship, 
I insert a picture of Mathura Dhondiba, as 
well as the following short account of her. 
This letter was received from the Rev. R. A. 
Hume, D. D., of the American Marathi Mis- 
sion, in regard to Mathura, who is being edu- 
cated by the Mary E. Stearns Memorial Fund. 

[ 345 ] 



Appendix 

The parts in single quotation marks are taken 
from a letter written by Dr. Hume two years 
previously, to the founders of the scholarship. 

"American Marathi Mission, 
" Ahmednagar Districts, Nov. 23, 1908. 

"Dear Miss Todd: — Mrs. Hume and I 
are touring in the villages. Just now we are 
tenting in a beautiful mango-grove in the vil- 
lage in which Mathura Dhondiba Salve has 
her home. . . . She now sits before my wife 
and myself. The Girls' School in Ahmednagar 
has a month's vacation. So she is now at home. 

"Mathura has for a year been studying in 
the fourth Marathi and the first English 
standards. At the end of the year she was pro- 
moted into the fifth Marathi an4 second 
English standards. In her class there were 
twenty-five girls. In order of merit she stood 
eighth. This shows that she is bright. *This 
school has two departments, a Vernacular 
Department in which the girls study only 
Marathi, and an Anglo- Vernacular Depart- 
ment, in which they study English as well 
as Marathi. ... At present the hours of that 
department are from 7 a. m. till 12:30 p. m. 

[346] 



Mathura Dhondiba Salve 



Appendix 

In the afternoon the girls of that department 
have sewing, drawing, musical drill, etc. The 
subjects studied are the ordinary ones in any 
school. English is studied very much as French 
or German is studied in America. In addition 
to the study of books, attention is paid to using 
English in speech.' 

"Hitherto she has lived in the Vernacular 
section of the Girls' School. Hereafter, she 
and her sister Miriam will live in the Anglo- 
Vernacular section. . . . 

" She is a modest, gentle girl. *Mathura has 
good ability and good character. So there is 
every prospect that she will become a fine 
woman. It will probably take her seven years 
[written in 1906] to finish her studies if she 
studies as far as the requirements for admis- 
sion to college. Comparatively few Indian girls 
have yet gone to college. If Mathura should 
prove worthy and promising, as now appears 
probable, perhaps she might be thought worthy 
of being helped to gain a college education. If 
you should be willing, by and by, to help her 
to that, it might be that you have fitted a fine 
Indian girl for a wide sphere of usefulness.' 

"She and her parents, all of whom are now 

[ 347 ] 



Appendix 

seated in front of our small tent (which is ten 
feet square), send their hearty thanks to the 
young ladies who founded the scholarship 
which gives her an education. Her father is 
pastor of the church in Jamgaon — fifteen 
miles west of Ahmednagar City in the Parner 
District. — He is a steady, faithful minister, 
with a very large family, viz., eight daughters 
and two sons. ' Her older sisters have all had a 
good education. Two of them became teach ers, 
one a capable kindergartner.' Of the eight 
daughters four are married. Of the two sons 
one is a drawing teacher in a mission school. 
But you can imagine how hard it is for the 
father, whose pay is $5 a month, to support 
four girls and one boy. 

"^Her mother, Pritabai (the meaning of 
whose name is Mrs. Love), is a very nice wo- 
man. She has trained all her daughters well, 
and is very anxious for their advancement in 
good things.' 

" Mrs. Hume joins me in thanks to the young 
ladies of the Stearns Scholarship circle, and with 
kind regards to your parents and yourself, I am, 
" Sincerely yours, 

"R. A. Hume." 
[348] 



Appendix 

In spite of some repetition, I add another 
letter, the first ever sent us by Mathura herself, 
and received on the eighth of October, after the 
book is in press. 

Ahmednagar, August, 1909. 

Dear Madam, — Many salaams to you. I am in the 
Marathi Vth and English 1st standard. My studies are 
going on well. Our school begins at 7 a. m. and is closed at 
12 P. M. Girls live in separate houses according to classes: 
Girls in the Vth standard live in one house and so on. We 
all Hve very friendly w^ith one another. 

I have eight sisters and tv^'o brothers. Out of eight four 
are married, and they are living comfortably; the other 
four are studying in schools. The elder brother is a school- 
master and the younger one is in the English IVth stand- 
ard. My father is a village -pastor. He goes to a village 
daily to preach the word of God. The name of our village 
is "Jamgaon," means the village of guavas; but the fact is 
there is not a single guava-tree. There is a very old palace 
in this village. It is in good order. It has four stories. It 
is all built of pure white marble stone. The carvdng on the 
walls is very interesting and worth-seeing. In one room the 
walls are such that if you touch them your hand sticks to 
them. In another room three old rupees (silver coins). 
When any one brings out some of them they immediately 
turn into coals. It is a wonder. Nobody knows why it 
happens; but there is the fact. In front of this palace there 
is a well. Through this well there is, it is said, an under- 
ground passage up to the great Mahal of Sultana Chand- 
bibi (the celebrated queen of Ahmednagar). There is 

[ 349 ] 



Appendix 

great scarcity of water in this village of Jamgaon. We are 
obliged to bring water daily from a distance of more than 
two miles, though the Government has dug a great tank 
near the village. However, there is a great number of 
mango and other fruit trees. 

When I go home for vacation I tell to Hindu children 
many stories from the Bible, and try to make them see the 
love of God and Jesus Christ. I thank you for the kind 
interest you take in me, a poor girl and also for the money 
you send for me. I pray God my Heavenly Father to bless 
you abundantly and keep you safe from all dangers. 
Please do not forget to pray for me. 

Your humble daughter, 

Mathura Dhondiba . 

After the money had been sent to India, we 
all realized that we must have some memorial 
nearer home as well. We decided on a small 
pamphlet, which should contain many testi- 
monials from the friends of Mrs. Stearns, and 
a short sketch of her life. I do not apologize 
for reversing the order ! The lesson of her life 
is too apparent. But for the benefit of her pu- 
pils who still expect what, three years ago, we 
decided to have, I have inserted a few quota- 
tions from letters sent to Mrs. Stearns's sister 
and daughter after her death. 

Appreciations from some of the teachers in 
her school follow the quotations. 

[350] 



Appendix 

"Dear Mrs. Stearns, your beloved mother, 
is dead. . . . 

"It is sad that earth has been robbed of 
such a life, for there are few like her. She was 
an angel while here." 

"We can never forget her, and the world 
seems different and lacking without her." 

"I have missed her so, thinking of her each 
time I looked from my windows " — toward 
her Amherst home. 

"The beauty of her giving was that she al- 
ways made you see that she was really getting 
pleasure out of pleasing you." 

"When we look at life from her standpoint, 
what a wonderful thing it is to live ! " 

"I love to think of your mother and the 
beautiful example she set for all her girls, 
giving to each some personal touch which will 
last to the end of their lives." 

"I have a deep feeling of personal loss, too, 
... for no one could have lived with her 
and not have loved her. She was the wisest, 
bravest and best woman I ever knew." 

"Those three years under her care were the 
turning point of my life." 

"You know only too well all she did for me, 

[351 ] 



Appendix 

and how I prize everything I can remember 
about her." 

"It seems a personal loss to me." 

"The kindly interest she had in me and her 
good advice were just what I needed." 

" I have the sweetest memories of your dear 
mother and her loving counsels to me, and of 
the goodness and truth she taught and lived." 

"If we could only say how much we loved 
her!" 

"With all my faults, I don't remember any- 
thing but the most sympathetic and affection- 
ate consideration from her. Of course such 
a regard from her drew or gave me the deepest 
love for her." 

" Your dear mother was like a mother to us 
all." 

"Your sweet mother was such a saint." 

"My boys are at school ... as nearly like 
your dear mother's school as any we could find 
for boys." 

"... Loving appreciation of what her 
brave, beautiful character did for me. I count 
her influence as one of the strongest in my 
life, and her heroism and trust in God will 
make all my Hfe easier." 
[ 352 ] 



Appendix 

"When I get blue and despondent and feel 
that I don't amount to much after all, it does 
me good to think of her plucky fight, and makes 
me ashamed to be weak-minded." 

"Mrs. Stearns was the finest and grandest 
example of Christian womanhood I have ever 
known. . . . Her helpful talks to us made an 
indelible impression upon my mind. . . . No 
one could come in contact with her without 
being the better for it." 

"Has she not been a second mother to 
me.?" 

" A great many of us have lost the best friend 
we have ever had." 

"That dear face with God's seal set upon it. 
My heart is with you, ... for I know what 
you have lost. I have loved her for years and 
years. ... I think of her happiness in being 
with her dear husband and children, and I 
rejoice with her." 

"I am so happy and grateful that she is 
having the peace she so richly deserves. . . . 
If any human being was prepared for eternal 
life it is the dear one who has gone, who so 
bravely worked for you all here." 

[ 353 ] 



Appendix 

^^ Home School for Girls, — it is a name 
in frequent use, but rarely so truly representing 
the character of the school as it did that of 
Mrs. Stearns. Many are the family schools, 
where all are gathered under one roof, but rare 
is it to find a true home where the mother is 
present. Mrs. Stearns had the true mother's 
heart; a heart large enough to reach out be- 
yond her own seven children, embrace every 
pupil who came within the home, and make of 
her a daughter. To you, dear girls, for whom 
this little memorial is prepared, I do not need 
to enlarge upon this thought. You all recall 
the tender care, the sympathetic ear, the 
* mother ' to whom you could ever go, and in 
the privacy of her room gain the comfort and 
help and strength that met your need. The 
burden upon her heart, to which she constantly 
gave expression when talking with her teach- 
ers, was the longing to help each girl to a more 
useful, more Christ-like life; as if you were 
her own daughters, she earnestly sought for 
this. It is a fitting tribute you have paid to her 
memory in making provision that her loved 
work may never cease, by establishing a perma- 
nent fund for the Christian training of some 

[354] 



Appendix 

child in India, that happy home of her early 
married life. 

** She may not move among us again, her lips 
may not speak the words we long to hear, but 
among the memories of each of us, teacher as 
well as pupil, is a loving mother who cannot 
fail to influence our lives to the very end. 

*^S. C. S." 



[ 355 ] 



Appendix 

"One dear and lovely view in our valley 
is this. — Across the meadows and the river, 
beyond the Hadley spires when the afternoon 
sun is shining on the Chapel tower, and College 
Hill stands out in outlines both picturesque and 
classic, the eye is pleased with seeing, and mem- 
ories and associations come thronging. To me, 
with this vision, one strong personality stands 
out by itself, for it was no slight privilege to 
live with a large-minded, generous woman for 
fourteen years. 

"Mrs. Stearns was born in the White Moun- 
tain country and loved to recall the glorious 
view all the way from her own home to the 
Mont Vernon village. She has told me about 
her mother, how she was really the one to start 
the Academy, how she gathered the neigh- 
bours' children with her own, and taught them 
to sing, and when nature study had not even 
the name, interested the children in flowers and 
minerals. This mother, amid the cares and 
duties of a hill farm, weaving into childish 
minds the interests pertaining to a wider and 
more beautiful life, was a fair prototype of her 
oldest daughter. In this daughter were the 
basal elements of truth and high principle, firm 

[356] 



Appendix 

as the rocks of the Granite State. Rooted in 
such a character and flowering out of it were 
the graces of gentleness and courtesy that so 
drew even the stranger. It would be a long 
procession if all those were to file past, who 
in either joy or sorrow were wont to pour out 
their hearts to that kind friend who never 
refused a listening ear. 

"The house might be very quiet when the 
girls were all out, but never lonesome as long 
as she was there. It is to such that Ruskin 
would have allotted a large plot in Queen's 
Gardens. A fragrance like roses and all sweet 
herbs permeates her memory. 

"A. M. P." 



[357] 



Appendix 

"My acquaintance with Mrs. Stearns began 
in 1887 when I became a teacher in her school. 

"As my duties there required my attend- 
ance for only a few hours in the morning when 
Mrs. Stearns was particularly engaged, I had 
little opportunity of seeing her, but ... no 
one could be brought in contact with Mrs. 
Stearns in the most casual way without real- 
izing her high standard of womanhood. Her 
quiet strength, her pure child-like spirit, and 
the perfect openness of her mind, were charac- 
teristics too manifest to be overlooked. I never 
knew one so able intellectually who made less 
display of her gifts, or who thought it less 
necessary to maintain the dignity of her posi- 
tion. This was, indeed, unnecessary, as her 
very character won for her, without effort, the 
honourable place she held in the estimation of 
all who knew her. Her sincere religious life 
was also most apparent. 

"The devoted attachment of her pupils 
testifies more strongly than can any words of 
mine to the hold she had upon them. In all 
their interests, physical, mental and spiritual, 
she watched over them with a wise and loving 
mother's care, and after they had gone out to 

[358] 



Appendix 

take their places in the world, they came back 
from time to time to tell her of their loving 
gratitude for all her care. 

"One in particular I have in mind, who was 
with Mrs. Stearns as a pupil for many years. 
. . . Year after year she returned to this school 
home, and after its existence as a school had 
ceased, she made frequent pilgrimages to the 
town, that she might be near the scenes of those 
happy years. 

"The influence of such a life as Mrs. 
Stearns lived in the presence of her pupils, 
leading them by word and example to seek 
and love the better way, can never be over 
estimated. 

"A. L. W. W." 



[ 359 ] 



Appendix 

"It was my privilege to spend four happy 
years in Mrs. Stearns's school as a teacher of 
German. ... It was a revelation to me to 
see how Mrs. Stearns, as head of the school, 
was at the same time the heart and soul of the 
school. Truly, hers was a home school, for as 
a mother she cherished and cared for every 
scholar, treating all alike, showing no prefer- 
ence, and with loving consideration caring for 
the intellectual and spiritual welfare of each 
and every one. Her life centred in the school, 
although her outside interests and activities 
were many. Broad-minded, with a mind keen, 
and judgment fair and just, never suspecting 
evil of any one until the evil was proven, she 
was honoured, admired and beloved by all 
with whom she came in contact. 

"Having been brought up in Germany, and 
taught in schools where only rigid and strict 
discipline rules, and where the teachers and 
scholars move, as it were, on different planes, 
it was, as I have said, a revelation to see her 
motherly and fair-minded discipline in the 
treatment of her scholars and those under her. 

"To me personally she was like a mother. 
A stranger in this country and having no other 

[360] 



Appendix 

home on this side of the water, she took me 
into the very narrowest circles of her home 
and bade me welcome, giving me such a wel- 
come as only Mrs. Stearns, with her great 
heart, could give. I shall never forget those 
happy hours when, freed from duties and cares 
of school life, she gave herself to the home life 
and her books. Those hours spent together 
in vacation time, in the evening in her library, 
when she would relate experiences and stories 
from her past life, so rich and full of interest, 
those hours in which I came to learn and know 
her character, so broad, so deep and Christian, 
those hours I shall never forget, and I shall ever 
be happy that it was my lot to come under the 
influence and power of such a grand, noble 
and self-sacrificing life as was that of Mrs. 
Stearns. 

"H. B. K." 

"... She was evidently not merely an in- 
structor but also a friend and often mother. 
The whole atmosphere of her home was filled 
with the personality of a rarely beautiful and 
serenely strong character. 

"J. C. C." 
[361 ] 



Appendix 

"That which appealed to me most in Mrs. 
Stearns was her wonderful womanliness, — 
progressive in everything that tended toward 
her ideal in womanhood, yet conservative 
toward whatever seemed to overstep that 
boundary line. With a real mother-love and 
sympathy she saw the good, and sought to 
develop the best, in every one of her girls. 
More than once, in speaking of certain ones, 

she has said, *Miss may not excel as a 

scholar, but she has character, and will make 
a fine woman.' The true woman to her was 
more than the scholar. 

"So, during my teaching, her faith and confi- 
dence were a great inspiration. With peculiar 
insight she seemed to understand for what one 
was striving, and was always ready with words 
of encouragement and praise. To work for her 
was a privilege and a pleasure. The memory 
of such a life is a precious legacy. 

"L.M.B." 



[362] 



DEC 17 19^9 



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DEC rr . 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



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